“Get a grip, Jessica,” I mutter to myself. My heart hammers, each beat echoing like a drum in my ears.“You’re letting your imagination run wild.”
Just as I round another bend, I catch sight of headlights in my rearview mirror. I squint at the reflection, the bright lights momentarily blinding me. It’s impossible to make out the driver, but their vehicle stays uncomfortably close, practically riding my bumper.
“Hey, back off!” I shout, even though they can’t hear me. My palms are slick with sweat, my knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. The car behind me seems intent on tailgating me. I wonder if it’s the same man from earlier. Is he following me? Trying to intimidate me?
“All right, buddy. Two can play this game.” I press down on the gas pedal, hoping to outrun him or at least put some distance between us. But no matter how fast I go, the car remains right on my tail, relentless in its pursuit.
“Leave me alone!” I scream as panic sets in. My hands tremble as I struggle to maintain control of the vehicle. Every curve in the road ratchets up my fear. The car behind me seems hell-bent on running me off the road, and I can’t understand why. Who would do something like this?
“Please, just let this be a coincidence,” I pray silently, though deep down, I know better. This isn’t a random act of road rage—it’s targeted, and it’s personal. And if I don’t figure out a way to escape, I might not make it home alive.
“Think, Jessica,” I urge myself as I glance back at the relentless headlights.“What would Mom do?” The memory of my mother’s strength and determination gives me a momentary surge of courage. She was always a fighter, a woman who refused to back down in the face of danger. And although she’s gone now, her legacy lives on within me.
With renewed determination, I steer my car off the main road, taking a shortcut through a densely wooded area. It’s risky, but I don’t have any other choice—I have to lose this man. As I barrel down the narrow path, branches scrape against my car. I can only hope my instincts are right.
“Come on, Jessica,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of my racing heart.“You can do this. You’re stronger than you think.”
The darkness of the mountain road swallows my headlights, but I refuse to slow down. My knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel, desperate to maintain control. The man behind me is relentless. My pulse races with every curve.
“This can’t be happening,” I mutter, trying to keep my focus on the winding path ahead.
And then, without warning, a sickening bang echoes through the night. My car lurches violently to one side, and I realize instantly what happened—my tire blew out. Panic surges through me. I can’t afford to lose control now. Not when I’m being hunted like prey.
“Mom, please watch over me,” I whisper, fighting to hold back tears. I’d always admired her courage in the face of adversity, and now, I need to channel that same resolve. There’s no time for fear or self-pity; I have to act, fast.
“Come on, Jessica,” I urge myself, scanning the dark landscape for any sign of salvation.“Think!”
That’s when I see it: A well-lit bar and grill nestled among the trees, just off the highway. I’ve never been there, but it’s owned by a bunch of bikers. I read an article about it a few weeks ago. Apparently, the guys are rough and scary, but this place is my only hope.
Praying my luck will change, I steer my crippled vehicle toward the motorcycle club’s bar. As I pull into the parking lot, the sound of laughter and music reaches my ears, momentarily drowning out my fear. I hesitate, unsure if this is the right place to seek refuge. But as the man’s headlights bear down on me once more, I have no other choice.
“Here goes nothing,” I whisper.
Before I can second-guess myself, I park behind a line of motorcycles. I fling open the car door and run toward the wooden porch. Desperation has led me to this unlikely sanctuary. Now, all I can do is hope it will be enough to save me from the danger at my heels.
As soon as I enter the bar, a cacophony of sounds and smells overwhelms me. The thick, smoky air stings my eyes, while the raucous laughter and the clinking of glassware makes it nearly impossible to think. For a moment, I stand there, frozen, unsure if I’ve just traded one danger for another.
“Need a drink?” A gruff voice cuts through the noise, snapping me back to reality.
I turn to see a burly bartender with a tattooed arm wiping down the counter. His gaze is questioning but not unkind.
“Uh, sure,” I stammer, taking a seat at the bar.“Whiskey, neat.”
As he pours my drink, I eye the parking lot through the windows, searching for any sign of the man who’s been tailing me.
“Here you go,” the bartender says, sliding the glass toward me.
I nod my thanks, cradling the amber liquid in my hands as if it can somehow shield me from the unknown threat lurking outside.
“Bad night?” the bartender asks, sensing my unease. His voice is quieter now, more sympathetic.
“Something like that.” I take a small sip of whiskey. It burns my throat, but I welcome the temporary distraction. What’s going on? Who is this man, and why is he following me?
“Hey,” the bartender say gently, his expression softening.“Whatever’s going on, you’re safe here. Nobody messes with our patrons.”
“Thanks.” I attempt a weak smile. Despite his reassuring words, something in my gut is telling me this isn’t over yet. My mother always taught me to be cautious, but I can’t wait here indefinitely, nursing a drink and hoping for the best. Sienna will know what to do.
As I dial Sienna’s number, my fingers tremble. If anyone can help me figure out what to do next, it’s her. But as the phone rings once, twice, three times, I wonder if I’ll truly be able to escape the danger that seems to be closing in on me.
