Devon’s POV
The car was weird. It smelled like old leather and something spicy that made my nose twitch. Diana sat beside me, her legs too short to touch the floor, swinging them back and forth as she stared out the window. I could tell she did not trust these guys any more than I did.
The driver kept glancing at us through the mirror. He had dark hair and a beard that made him look kind of like one of the bad guys from the cartoons we were not supposed to watch. His friend, sitting in the passenger seat, was older, with white hair and a face that scrunched up like he was always thinking too hard.
“So,” Beard Guy started, his voice a little too cheerful, as if trying to be less suspicious, acting so likeable to a children. “What are your names, kids?”
Diana and I exchanged a look. Mom
