The drive to L.A from Indianapolis was long.
Two thousand and seventy two miles long. I didn't sleep on the drive, I didn't trust Gabe or this "Sugar" lady.
We had been in the car for about fifteen hours or so, and I was starting to go insane.
The Triumph Herald's engine rumbled beneath us, drowning out my thoughts. The air inside the car was stale — a toxic mix of Gabe's body odor, Sugar's overpowering perfume, and whatever cheap air freshener clung to the upholstery. I kept my eyes on the window, watching endless stretches of asphalt blur past, but no matter how much I tried to tune everything out, I couldn't ignore them.
Fifteen hours.
Fifteen hours of Gabe humming along to bad country music, his fingers tapping the wheel like he was auditioning for a band. Fifteen hours of Sugar alternating between filing her nails and snapping at Gabe every time he "accidentally" hit a pothole.
I was starting to lose it.
"You okay back there, sweetie?" Sugar's syrupy voice broke through the noise. I glanced over and found her looking at me, smiling just a little too wide. Her lipstick was still perfect — bright red like a stop sign.
"I'm fine," I muttered.
"You sure?" She leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping to a softer tone — almost gentle. "I know this must be hard for you... everything you've been through."
I clenched my fists in my lap. Don't fall for it, I reminded myself. Sugar had been playing this fake 'concerned friend' act ever since we left. But I wasn't stupid — she was just like Gabe. This wasn't about Mom. This was about whatever scam they were running.
"I said I'm fine," I repeated.
Sugar's smile faltered for half a second — just long enough to make me wonder if I'd hit a nerve — but then she recovered, her grin even brighter than before.
"Well, if you need anything," she said sweetly, "I'm here for you, sugar pie."
Did she just call me 'sugar pie'? I almost laughed. Instead, I turned back to the window, counting the mile markers like they might hypnotize me.
For a few minutes, the car settled back into silence — well, except for Gabe muttering curse words at some driver up ahead. Then Sugar spoke again.
"Y'know," she said, her voice suddenly louder and sharper, "you really should try to be a little more grateful. Your stepdad's going out of his way to help you, and you're acting like you'd rather be anywhere else."
I whipped my head around to stare at her. "Grateful?" I asked, my voice rising. "Grateful for what? For dragging me halfway across the country to parade me on TV like a prop?"
"Watch your mouth," Gabe growled from the driver's seat.
"Oh, please." I couldn't stop myself now. "Like you actually care. You're just doing this so you can milk some pity money out of strangers."
"Kid," Gabe warned, "you'd better shut your—"
"Don't talk to him like that." Sugar's voice snapped through the air like a whip. I blinked, stunned. Even Gabe paused, gripping the steering wheel like he didn't know how to respond.
For a second, I wondered if Sugar had actually taken my side. But then she turned her glare on me.
"Look," she said, her voice low but sharp. "I don't care what you think you know. Your mom's out there somewhere, and if this little stunt gets people talking? If it gets folks to pitch in? Then maybe you should quit whining and do your part."
I wanted to yell something back, but the words stuck in my throat. Because — as much as I hated to admit it — part of me knew she was right. If there was even the slightest chance this could help Mom... could I really throw that away just because Gabe was a creep?
I swallowed hard. "Fine," I muttered. "Whatever."
"That's better," Sugar said, flashing that plastic smile again.
Gabe chuckled darkly. "Heh. Knew you'd see reason." He reached into the center console, pulling out an unopened pack of cigarettes. "I'm stopping at the next gas station," he announced. "Need a smoke."
"Classy," I muttered under my breath.
Sugar snorted — actually snorted — like she thought I was funny. "You're alright, kid," she said, giving me a quick wink before turning her attention back to her nails.
I didn't know what to make of that. One second she was acting like my new best friend; the next, she was scolding me like some evil stepmother. Something about her didn't add up — and it wasn't just her weird personality shifts.
There was... something else. Something I couldn't quite explain.
Maybe it was the way she seemed too put together — like no matter how long we'd been on the road, her makeup stayed perfect. Or the way her nails gleamed, sharper than they should've been. Or how, when the headlights from an oncoming truck hit her face just right, her eyes seemed to flash an eerie shade of green — like seawater under moonlight.
I didn't know why, but I knew one thing for sure:
Sugar wasn't what she seemed.
I kept my eyes on Sugar, pretending to focus on the road signs blurring past. The way her gaze flicked toward Gabe — like she was sizing him up — didn't feel right. I couldn't tell if they were working together or barely tolerating each other. Either way, something about her wasn't adding up.
The gas station couldn't come soon enough.
When Gabe finally swerved off the highway and pulled into a grimy station with flickering lights and a barely readable "Marlins Mart" sign, I shoved the car door open before he could even finish parking.
"I'll stretch my legs," I muttered, not waiting for permission.
"Don't wander off," Gabe barked, already lighting his cigarette before he'd even closed his door.
I stalked off toward the edge of the lot, kicking a crumpled soda can out of my path. The air was dry and heavy, but at least it didn't smell like Gabe's sweat and stale pine.
"Careful, sweetie," Sugar's voice sang out behind me. "Wouldn't want you to get lost."
I turned to see her leaning against the car, arms crossed and one eyebrow arched like she was daring me to say something smart.
"I'm fine," I muttered.
"Sure," she drawled. "But I'd keep an eye out if I were you." Her smile curled like smoke. "Lots of weird folks hang out at places like this."
I narrowed my eyes. "Yeah? And what does that make you?"
Her grin widened. "Wouldn't you like to know."
That did it. "Look," I snapped. "I don't know what your deal is, but I'm not stupid. I know you're not some grief counselor. Whatever you and Gabe are pulling, I'm not playing along."
For a second, something flickered across her face — something colder and sharper than her usual fake smile. Then, just as quickly, she smirked. "You're a sharp kid," she said, almost like a compliment. "But don't go starting fights you can't win."
I scoffed. "You think I'm scared of you?"
She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the pavement. "I think you should be a little more careful." Her voice dropped lower — softer, but somehow heavier. "You're out in the middle of nowhere with two people you don't trust. Might wanna be a little smarter about who you mouth off to."
I clenched my fists, but before I could answer, Gabe barked from across the lot.
"SUGAR! Grab me some jerky!"
Sugar sighed like she was being asked to climb Everest. "Looks like I'm on snack duty," she muttered, brushing past me toward the store.
I waited until she disappeared inside before turning back to the car. Gabe was still puffing away near the gas pump, arguing with some guy about the price. Typical.
I was about to head back when I noticed something strange — a dull glint of metal on the ground near Sugar's side of the car. Curious, I walked over and crouched down.
It wasn't metal. It was glass — a thick shard of something like a bracelet or a pendant. The color reminded me of ocean water, deep green and swirling with tiny flecks of bronze. Something about it tugged at my brain — like I was looking at something familiar I couldn't quite place.
Before I could decide what to do with it, a voice rasped in my ear.
"I wouldn't touch that if I were you."
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Sugar was suddenly right behind me, her hand clamping down on my wrist before I could pick up the shard. I hadn't even heard her walk up.
"Where did you—?" I started, but her grip tightened — cold and strong.
"Leave it," she said, her voice low and deadly serious. "It's not for you."
I yanked my arm back. "What is it?"
"Nothing," Sugar said too quickly. She scooped the shard into her palm like it was something precious and slid it into her purse. "Just a stupid trinket."
But as she turned away, I noticed something else — for just a second, her arm shimmered, like sunlight reflecting off a wave. And where her nails had grabbed me, my skin tingled like I'd just stuck my hand in freezing water.
I didn't know what was going on — not yet — but one thing was clear:
Sugar wasn't just some con artist. And whatever she was hiding, I was sure I didn't want to be anywhere near it.
The rest of the ride was quiet. Gabe chain-smoked his way through half a pack of cigarettes, occasionally grumbling at drivers who dared to pass him. Sugar sat beside him, filing her nails and flipping through a gossip magazine like nothing had happened.
I stayed silent in the backseat, staring at the faint marks still tingling on my wrist where Sugar had grabbed me. The weird chill had faded, but I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever I'd seen — that glass shard, the shimmer on her skin — wasn't normal.
Hours dragged by, and by the time we reached a run-down diner somewhere in the middle of nowhere, I felt like I'd been sitting in that car for a lifetime.
"We're stopping here," Gabe announced, killing the engine. He didn't even look at me. "I need some shut-eye. Don't wander off."
The way he said it made it clear that if I did wander off, he wouldn't exactly be heartbroken.
"You go ahead, sweetie," Sugar purred, her voice all sunshine again. "I'll take Y/N inside."
I didn't like the idea of being alone with her, but the thought of sitting in a parked car with Gabe was even worse.
"Fine," Gabe muttered. "Just don't be long." He reclined his seat so far back I half expected him to fall straight into the trunk, then shut his eyes.
The diner was a squat, greasy-looking place with flickering neon lights that buzzed like hornets.
The diner's bell jingled as Sugar and I stepped inside. The place smelled like burnt coffee and grease, and the flickering lights above made everything look washed out — like I was walking into a faded photograph.
The place was mostly empty — just a tired-looking waitress behind the counter and some trucker nursing his coffee in the corner. But two guys sat at a booth near the back, their conversation low but intense.
One was huge — leather jacket, grey-hair, and sunglasses indoors. He had this presence that seemed to fill the whole room, like he was sucking up all the air just by being there. He barely glanced up when we walked in, but I felt his eyes on me anyway. The other guy looked closer to my age — curly hair... and goat legs.
I blinked hard. No. Not goat legs. Just... weird pants?
"Sit down," Sugar muttered under her breath, steering me toward a booth on the other side of the room.
"What's your deal?" I shot back quietly.
"My deal," she hissed, "is keeping you alive. So sit down, smile, and shut up."
That got my attention. "Alive from what?"
But Sugar wasn't looking at me anymore — her eyes were locked on the guy in the leather jacket. Her expression wasn't exactly scared, but it wasn't her usual smug confidence either. She was watching him like a cat sizing up a bigger cat — one that might just decide to pounce.
I sat down. Not because she told me to, but because that guy's vibe was enough to make me rethink my whole day.
"...bold enough to cross Zeus, stealthy enough—"
The curly-haired guy — the one with the totally normal pants — was talking fast, like he'd been building to something.
"Enough," the biker guy growled, his voice like gravel. He exhaled sharply and sat back in his seat. "Not everything's a puzzle that needs to be solved," he muttered. "You're as bad as my sister."
Sugar scoffed quietly, like she'd just heard something funny. The biker guy—
"Holy crap is that Edge?" I muttered in realization.
Sugar snorted again, this time loud enough to turn a few heads. I stiffened, silently willing her to keep her mouth shut. The biker guy — Edge — turned his head just enough to catch sight of us. For a second, I thought I saw a flicker of recognition in his sunglasses — like he'd been expecting us.
"Got somethin' funny to say?" Edge drawled. His voice was sharp, casual in a way that made it clear he was daring Sugar to answer.
Sugar leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other and flashing her usual lazy smile. "Not really," she said. "Just funny listening to a grown man complain about his sister."
The kid coughed awkwardly into his drink, while Edge... smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile — more like a wolf baring its teeth.
"That so?" Edge rumbled. He turned his body slightly, one arm draping over the back of his chair like he was claiming territory. His sunglasses slid down his nose just enough for me to catch his eyes — and for some reason, they looked red. Maybe it was just the light.
"Yeah," Sugar said lightly, flipping open her menu like the conversation was over. "Real shame. Seems like you could've used a better role model growing up."
I tensed. Oh no.
The kid shot Sugar a warning look like he was silently begging her to stop. Edge chuckled under his breath — a low, dangerous sound that practically vibrated in my chest.
"You've got a smart mouth," Edge muttered. He tapped one thick finger on the table. "Might wanna be careful where you run it."
"Thanks for the tip," Sugar said, still flipping pages like she was deciding between fries or onion rings.
"Uh... so, hey!" The kid blurted out, voice a little too loud. "Why don't we, uh... cool it with the life advice, huh?" He shot me a nervous smile like I was supposed to back him up. I didn't. I didn't know what was going on, but I knew enough to keep my mouth shut.
Edge leaned forward, planting both elbows on the table. "Relax, goat boy," he muttered. "We're just talkin'."
"Goat boy?" I repeated under my breath. I glanced at Goat Boy's weird, baggy jeans again. Okay... maybe not just weird pants.
Edge's eyes flicked back to me, and my stomach did a somersault. "What's your deal?" he asked.
"Me?" I swallowed hard. "Uh... nothing. Just... passing through."
Edge snorted. "Yeah? Well, you oughta keep passing through."
I wasn't sure if that was a threat or advice, but either way, I didn't like it. "Gladly," I muttered.
For a few moments, no one spoke. The air felt heavy, like the whole room was bracing for someone to throw the first punch. Even the tired-looking waitress was eyeing the door like she was calculating the fastest way out.
Then Sugar — still smiling like she didn't have a care in the world — folded her menu closed and turned to me. "Come on, sweetie," she said. "We're not staying here."
"What?" I blinked. "I thought Gabe—"
"Gabe can rot in the car," Sugar said. "I'm not sitting in here with him." She jerked her head toward Edge, her smile sharpening at the edges. "Guy's got an ego bigger than his hairline."
"Careful," Edge growled, but Sugar was already sliding out of the booth.
"Yeah, yeah," she drawled. "Big scary biker guy. I'm real impressed."
I had no idea why Sugar was poking the bear, but I wasn't about to argue with her. I slid out of the booth as fast as I could, practically tripping over my own feet in my rush to follow her.
We were halfway to the door when Edge called out.
"Hey, kid."
I froze.
"Don't let your babysitter get you hurt," Edge said. His smile was gone now, his expression colder than before. "Some fights... they're bigger than you know."
I had no idea what that meant, but the way he said it made my skin crawl.
"Let's go," Sugar muttered, grabbing my arm a little too tightly.
I didn't say a word until we were outside. The night air felt colder than before, like the heat had been sucked out of the world. Sugar let go of my arm and stormed across the lot like she was trying to walk off her anger.
"Are you trying to get us killed?" I hissed, catching up to her.
"Relax," she snapped. "He's all talk."
I shook my head. "He's not just some biker, Sugar. That's Edge. The guy's... I dunno, six-time world champion or something!"
Sugar stopped in her tracks. For a second, her face scrunched like she was trying not to laugh. "That's what you're worried about?"
"Yeah!" I shot back. "What, you think just because you're... whatever you are, you can mess with some famous wrestler?"
Something flickered in her expression — something colder and more calculating than before. "Trust me, sweetie," she said. "That guy's no wrestler."
I wanted to ask what the heck that meant, but before I could, Sugar turned and stalked off toward the car, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement.
I followed, still feeling Edge's words buzzing in my head.
"Some fights... they're bigger than you know."
I didn't know what he meant. But I had a feeling I was going to find out.
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DGW: Hello everyone, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed— and if you have any complaints feel free to share.
Word Count: 3099