Morning light poured through the windshield as the car pulled away from the motel, washing everything in a pale, unforgiving brightness that made the place look even worse than it had moments ago.
Ava stared out the window, but she wasn't really seeing the road.
The motel clung to her thoughts like something sticky and unpleasant, refusing to let go. No matter how hard she tried to focus on the passing buildings or the rhythm of the car tires against the asphalt, her mind kept circling back...back to peeling paint, the sour smell of old carpets, the smug curl of the receptionist's mouth.
And him.
Her fingers tightened unconsciously around the strap of her purse resting on her lap. The strange man's presence replayed in fragments: the way he'd walked in like he owned the place, unbothered, unhurried. The way his eyes had flicked toward her, not lingering or obvious, but deliberate.
Ava swallowed.
