Elena Vasquez

The van screamed through Virginia’s backroads, tires spitting gravel, the engine’s roar drowning the chaos in my head. Alexander drove, his knuckles white on the wheel, his jaw set like stone. Sofia was in the back, strapped to a stretcher Lila’s medic had rigged, her face ashen, blood seeping through the bandage on her side. Marco sat beside her, his cracked laptop glowing, his fingers a blur as he fought Victor’s final seed, a viral storm of deepfakes flooding X, TikTok, ...