Val's P.OV

The slam of the Uber’s trunk was a gunshot in the tense silence. The car’s taillights shrank to red pinpricks and vanished around the corner, abandoning us. The three of us stood frozen in the vacuum it left behind, surrounded by plastic bags that rustled in the faint, stale breeze of the garage. The cheerful, colorful evidence of our victorious night now felt like a taunt.

My phone was a dead weight in my hand, like a Pandora's box that had blasted our world apart. Ronan’s ...