Page 57 of Finn
Gabriel’s brow furrowed in doubt, and he folded his arms across his chest.
“Finn, it’s not safe for you to go alone. We don’t know who?—”
“I’ll be fine,” I interrupted, forcing a smile and brushing a hand against his arm. “You stay here and keep trying for a signal. Maybe something will pop up while I’m gone.”
Gabriel’s lips pressed into a thin line, clearly unhappy with my suggestion. “Finn…”
I leaned in and kissed him, a soft reassurance, hoping it would ease his worry.
“I’ll be fine,” I repeated, my voice firmer this time.
He let out a resigned sigh but didn’t argue further.
“Be quick,” he said, his tone tinged with reluctance. “And don’t let your guard down.”
I nodded, turning toward the road. My feet crunched on the gravel shoulder as I walked, the car’s dim headlights fading behind me.
The night was unnervingly quiet, the only sound my footsteps and the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind.
I kept to the edge of the road, glancing back every so often.
I hadn’t told Gabriel, but lately, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being followed.
At first, I thought it was Gael. He had every reason to come after us. But something didn’t add up.
If it was him, why hadn’t he made a move?
Gabriel had said Gael wouldn’t hesitate to kill him, yet here we were, still running, still alive.
Maybe I was just paranoid. The constant driving and the lack of was all catching up to me.
Even when Gabriel and I took turns behind the wheel, there was no real rest.
The fear of what might be lurking around the next corner kept me on edge.
When we’d first started this journey, I’d tried to romanticize it, imagining it as some kind of adventurous road trip.
But that illusion had crumbled quickly. This wasn’t a vacation. It was survival.
And deep down, I knew we couldn’t keep doing this forever. Something had to give.
The convenience store came into view, its flickering neon sign casting an eerie glow over the empty parking lot.
There was only one vehicle parked outside. A black truck. It looked new, but the sight of it gave me pause.
The state plates matched, but something about it felt... off.
I shook my head, dismissing the thought as paranoia. I was running on fumes, after all.
My mind was probably conjuring shadows where there were none. Pushing the door open, I stepped inside.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and an elderly man stood behind the counter, flipping through a magazine.
He barely glanced up as I approached.
“Excuse me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Our car broke down a little ways up the road. Can I borrow your phone?”
The man looked up, squinting at me for a moment before nodding. He slid an old landline phone across the counter.
