The black sedan pulled up to the curb beside us.

The rear door clicked open from the inside.

The driver, a large man in a dark suit, sat silently behind the wheel.

“We need to move,” Lucian said, his eyes scanning the street.

“Now, Mara.”

Bishop did not wait for my decision.

He hopped into the back seat of the sedan and sat down on the leather.

He looked out the open door at me, waiting.

I took a deep breath, the cold air filling my lungs.

My fingers released the silver locket around my neck.

“Fine,” I said.

I stepped into the car.

The leather was warm and smelled of expensive polish.

Lucian got in after me, closing the heavy door.

The sound of the rain was instantly muffled, reduced to a soft patter on the glass.

The driver pulled away from the curb, accelerating quickly into the dark.

I sat on one side, Bishop sat in the middle, and Lucian sat on the other side.

No one spoke.

The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, streaks of yellow and red in the wet night.