Lisa’s POV

Colt drove like a man possessed.

He didn’t say a word, he just slammed the paddles too hard and took turns like he was street racing ghosts. The seatbelt cut across my collarbone with every lurch forward. I gripped the door handle, not for support, but to keep me from screaming.

It wasn’t fear. It was frustration. A slow, boiling rage wrapped in confusion.

We’d just fled a blood-soaked event, Ronan had stayed behind, and now I was being whisked away in the middle of the night ...