Lucia's confusion only deepened as she stared at them, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean by 'running'? Where are we going?"
Her voice was sharp with irritation, but none of the men answered her directly.
Darth, sitting closest to her, merely smirked a playful glint in his eye.
His hand settled on her thigh, a gesture that made her skin crawl, though she refrained from brushing it off.
The tension in the car was palpable, the oppressive silence broken only by the low hum of the engine as it sped down the deserted road.
The late afternoon light was fading quickly, casting long, eerie shadows that danced over the surrounding trees.
Lucia eyed the dense forest they were driving toward with growing apprehension.
Something about this felt wrong—she could feel it deep in her gut, like an instinct warning her of danger.
The car rolled to a stop, and they all sat there for a moment, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun.
