Isabella Hawthorne
The shove from the guard's vaporizing gun sent me stumbling into the dark car, the cool leather seat contrasting against the prickling heat on my skin. Fear simmered in my gut, but I forced it down, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me tremble.
The interior was plush, the scent of expensive cologne clinging to the air like a ghost. My eyes adjusted to the dimness, taking in the soft glow of the dashboard, and the sleek lines of the car's interior.
Then, a presence settled beside me. Mayor Caldwell, a man whose girth seemed to expand in the confined space of the backseat. His cologne, a potent mix of musk and woodsmoke, intensified, filling my senses.
"Where are you taking me?" I repeated, my voice steady despite the tremor in my heart. I knew the answe
