Nothing suggested the night would become anything more than another ride home.
Then the white cargo van ahead jerked violently to the right.
It wasn’t drifting—it was panic. Gravel erupted beneath its tires as it slammed onto the shoulder, fishtailing before stopping at an angle that blocked half the lane. Ryan instinctively slowed, unease crawling into his chest before he even knew why.
The side door exploded open.
A boy stumbled out.
Barefoot.
He hit the pavement hard, skin scraping against rough asphalt, but scrambled upright immediately as if stopping meant dying. His small chest heaved violently, and when he turned toward the road his face carried a terror too raw to misunderstand.
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