Page 15 of You Can Run

Ryan drove like the laws of physics were optional, the needle of the Tacoma's speedometer climbing steadily while the engine whined in protest beneath the hood; the road ahead stretched long and empty through the scrubland, a pale ribbon of asphalt that offered no shortcuts, and no miracles.

He kept one hand on the wheel and the other hovering near the phone mounted to the dash.

“Jessica,” he said. “Let me know you’re still there. Even if it’s just breathing.”

For a moment there was only the hiss of the open line, and Ryan felt the silence tighten in his chest like a wire being pulled taut.

Then her voice came through, barely above a whisper.

“I’m here. I’m not moving.”

Good.

His phone vibrated with a second call. He switched lines without easing off the accelerator, keeping Jessica on hold.

“I’m a few minutes out,” Dante said.

The words came through warped by wind and engine noise—the deep, furious roar of the ’Cuda’s big block vibrating through the speaker like distant thunder. Relief punched through Ryan harder than he expected.

“Okay,” he said, forcing his thoughts into order. “Listen carefully. She’s barricaded. They don’t know where yet. If they leave?—”

“They won’t,” Dante cut in. It didn't sound like he wasn’t guessing. “They’re not burglars.”

Ryan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.

“I put her in this,” Dante said suddenly. “All of it.”

Ryan didn’t answer. Because that wasn’t true, and yet it wasn’t false either. Guilt had a way of spreading itself around.

“Tell her something for me,” Dante added, the words coming slower now, pushed out over the roar of the engine. “If you talk to her before I get there—tell her I’m coming.”

Ryan nodded once, though Dante couldn’t see it. “I will.”

The line clicked dead.

Ryan glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was too far. He wasn't going to make it.

He switched back to Jessica’s line.

“Jessica,” he said, his voice steady again, the same calm cadence that had once convinced her to trust him with her life. “Help is closer than you think.”

She didn’t answer immediately and for a moment he wondered if the connection had dropped. Then her voice returned, even softer than before.

“I can hear them breathing.”

Ryan felt the words travel straight down his spine. The road blurred beneath him as he pressed the accelerator harder.

I should've listened.

The thought cut through Dante as the 'Cuda tore down the empty road, the needle climbing while the car strained beneath him.

Should've listened to the damn marshal.

He tightened his grip on the wheel, jaw flexing.

And why hadn't he? Maybe it wasn't about Ryan at all. Maybe it was the same thing it had always been, the knowledge that no matter how many years passed or how far he ran from Chicago, from her, from the version of himself who'd believed he could build a life out of lies and still keep her clean, he'd been the one who brought her into it.

We'll get out together.