KNOX’S POV
Nathaniel takes the corners so fast the tyres scream against the ice, and I don’t tell him to slow down because I can feel her.
Without pictures or words, I feel her through the unnamed connection living between us. It’s a proto-bond, an immature thread that usually hums when she’s close and goes quiet when she’s safe.
Right now, it is doing neither.
Right now, it’s a siren inside my chest, a frequency of wrongness that gets louder with every mile, and my hands are shaking against my thighs.
“Faster,” I say.
The engine screams as we violently weave through traffic, pulling manoeuvres that would earn us a century’s worth of tickets.
The first thing to appear is a black car. A sick feeling guts me the second I see it, because I know damn well it isn’t Ember.
Then the cross
