(Ariana’s POV)

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The SUV’s leather seats were so soft, I almost felt bad bleeding on them.

Almost.

If I leaned back too far, I’d sink into the cushion like I was being absorbed into mafia-flavored memory foam. Every bump in the road made my ribs scream and reminded me that this wasn’t a dream it was just a really, really stupid chapter in the book of What the Hell is My Life?

The men in front said nothing. Silent types. Professional. Boring. Maybe their mouths were glued ...