“Anywhere far from here would be enough for now,” she replied, accepting the bottle of water he offered with a gratitude that required no theatrical gestures or excessive words. Colin nodded silently, sensing that questions could wait while survival demanded immediate attention, yet curiosity pulsed restlessly beneath his calm exterior.
“My name is Colin,” he said after several quiet miles, prompting a pause before she answered, “Valeria Stone, and I hope you are someone who keeps driving.”
The afternoon sun drifted westward, bathing the desert in molten gold while tension thickened within the narrow cabin like invisible smoke. Valeria’s eyes flicked repeatedly toward passing vehicles, each glance edged with alertness that betrayed a danger Colin could neither see nor understand.
“Are you running from someone,” he finally asked, his voice steady despite the unease rising through his veins, and she answered with a humorless smile, “Running toward justice sometimes looks exactly the same.”