Hazel's POV
Freedom tasted like gas station coffee and smelled like burnt rubber on asphalt. It should have been perfect.
Instead, freedom felt like being watched.
I glanced over my shoulder for the hundredth time as I walked through the massive rest stop, my eyes immediately finding Liam's hulking figure three aisles away in the convenience store section. He wasn't even trying to be subtle anymore.
"You need anything else?" Sera called from near the register, her wild purple-streaked hair making her easy to spot among the truckers and travelers.
"Just grabbing some snacks," I called back, trying to sound normal while Liam's stare burned holes into my back.
The past two days had been a blur—escaping the pack, hitting the road with a near-stranger, and putting miles between me and everything I'd ever known. Sera's beat-up camper wasn't exactly luxury transportation, but it represented something I hadn't felt in months: choice.
At least until I realized Liam had followed us.
