We swerved out on the main road, the sharp turn sending me slamming against the door. There was no time to think. My mind was blank except for this panicked desperation to get out of the car.
“Oakley, stop the car!”
“Sorry, firefly. We have a lot to talk about, and this is the only way.”
“What? Are you fucking mental?” I clenched my teeth, gripped the edge of the leather seat, kicking at the back of the driver’s seat.
“You didn’t answer my fucking texts,” he shouted. “You won’t fucking talk to me!”
“Because you’re a goddamn psychopath. Now let. Me. Out!”
Adrenaline surged, my fight or flight mode going into overdrive as I reached between the two front seats, trying to scratch his fucking eyes out.
“I’m sorry, firefly,” he said, lifting his elbow toward me.
Everything went dark.