As soon as the bus jerks to a stop again, Declan stands and tells the driver to grab my bag from the cargo hold, and the driver nods without hesitation like he has been expecting this moment and like arguing would be pointless.
I stare at the driver in surprise, and when he meets my eyes there is something almost apologetic in his expression, something sorrowful and knowing that tells me he understands more than a normal human should about wolves and Alphas and girls who run.
“We’ll get your things,” he says quietly, and his voice is steady but not indifferent.
Declan guides me down the steps of the bus without touching me, and as soon as my shoes hit the pavement, I see it.
A black SUV idles a few yards away, sleek and expensive and completely out of place in this tiny roadside stop.
