Zayne’s POV
The siren is getting closer. Like whoever is driving it already knows they’re arriving at something ugly.
My body reacts before my mind does.
I sprint back toward Isla’s first car, heart hammering so violently it feels like it might punch straight through my ribs. The road is quiet now, eerily so, like the chaos burned itself out and left only the aftermath behind.
I started searching.
Door handles. Seats. Floor. Dashboard. The glove compartment. I scan for anything—blood, fingerprints, something dropped, something forgotten. Anything that could point back to her.
There’s nothing.
No weapon. No trace. No sign she did anything other than drive for her life.
Good.
I don’t linger, I don’t let relief slow me down.
I ran back to Rico’s car, sliding into the driver’s seat
