I should have listened to Malo when he said we should book a ride, because right now, Beamer Frost had completely fucking lost it. The cabin of the car felt like a pressure cooker ready to pop, the air vibrating with a hum that wasn't just coming from the engine. It was coming from her.
The second that motorcycle tore through the traffic and sped off with Kiara on the back, the road somehow cleared like magic. One second we were trapped between endless cars, horns blaring and exhaust fumes filling my nose, headlights burning into the night like angry eyes, then suddenly there was nothing. Just an open stretch of dark road waiting for Beam to lose her mind on it.
And she did.
