The only sound in the car was the engine.
It trilled low and steady as the road stretched out in front of us. No infected. No gunfire. Just open asphalt and the wind pushing through the shattered window.
I tried to focus on that.
On the quiet.
But the anger wouldn't settle.
Before I could stop myself, I slammed my palm against the steering wheel.
"Damn it, Lila. What the fuck were you thinking?"
She didn't flinch.
Didn't even look at me.
Her eyes stayed on her thumbs in her lap, like they were the reason she was still breathing and not me.
"We almost got killed because of you. Was that what you wanted!? Was it!??"
My jaw tightened.
"Look at me," I said.
Nothing.
I sucked in a breath, ready to go off again, but I shut my eyes instead. My grip on the wheel tightened until the leather creaked under my fingers.
A dry sound left my throat. Not a laugh. Just air.
