{Damon's POV}

The cars on the street were jammed like sardines, horns and angry drivers screaming, and my GPS was proudly announcing: “Estimated time of arrival, twenty minutes.”

Twenty. For a dress that needed to be there hours ago.

I slapped the wheel and exhaled through my teeth. “Of course. Of course, this would happen today.”

I looked to my right, car, cars, cars. And to my left? Even more cars.

Petra had called twice. Lisa once. In the last couple minutes.

And my grave was already ...