Scarlett POV
The man looked ready to rip the door off its hinges, his face twisted with pure road rage and fury.
Delaney and I weren't stupid. No way in hell were we stepping out first.
Not when we were clearly in the wrong, and he was built like the bench-pressed Ferraris for fun.
He slammed his fist against the window again; the glass vibrated. His expression twisted into something downright feral, like a night-stalking wolf finally catching the scent of blood. Lips pulled back, teeth flashing.
Delaney fumbled for her phone, dialing emergency services with shaking fingers.
I scanned the floor of the car for anything: pepper spray, a damn umbrella, something to fight back with if he got inside. My heart hammered against my ribs as if it wanted out.
Then the passenger door of
