Agnes
The drive to the highest vista in Silvermoon was quiet. James drove with Elijah riding shotgun, while I sat in the back with Olivia. The silence was thick enough to cut with a knife.
I kept stealing glances at Olivia, trying to read her face in the dim glow of passing streetlights. She didn’t look at me. Or any of us, really. And eventually, I got so exhausted that I even nodded off briefly.
Finally, the car slowed and turned onto a gravel road that wound its way up a steep hillside. The headlights swept across a few copses of trees and underbrush before coming to rest on a small clearing at the top of the vista.
“We’re here,” James announced.
The vista was nothing special—just a simple overlook with a rusted guardrail and a couple of weathered picnic tables. But
