Eleanor's POV
Roxy's hands were a blur on the wheel, swerving us around a dumped mattress and then a cluster of overflowing trash cans. The car shuddered with each violent correction. With a curse, she fumbled her phone from a pocket, never taking her eyes off the road. She hit a speed-dial and put it on speaker, holding it between her shoulder and ear.
A man's smug voice crackled through. And somehow, I could hear it clearly. "What's wrong? Car trouble?"
"You pathetic little worm," Roxy snarled, her voice vibrating with a rage so pure it was almost awe-inspiring. "When I get out of this, I'm going to—"
"Yeah, yeah," the voice interrupted, dripping with false sympathy. "You might want to save your breath. Heard there's a little… blockage up ahead. A container truck taking a nap along the finish line. Real shame."
Roxy's face went pale beneath its usual defiance. The phone slipped from her shoulder and clattered to the floor. She didn't bother to pick it up.
