The soft hum of the engine was the only sound between us as the road curved along endless stretches of pine and mist. Morning sunlight spilled through the windshield, gilding Kristen’s profile in shades of gold and shadow. His jaw was tight, but his hands rested steady on the wheel, knuckles pale against the leather.

We hadn’t spoken much since dawn, not since he’d said the words, “I’m taking you somewhere you can breathe again.”

I’d wanted to protest. The pack still buzzed ...