Everything was moving too fast. Wild card that he was, he had smashed the gas—pedal to the fucking metal—one too many times. He knew it, but he’d never say it. That would mean admitting he was wrong, and he hated that more than anything.
She tried to warn him. She pleaded and protested, shouting about consequences beyond their control, ever the pragmatist, but it was too late. Her entire world had been flipped upside down because her partner had unilaterally made a decision to change both of their lives forever.
This was a proper mess. The blood covering the car told the entire story, and the body it all belonged to sealed their fate. They were powerless against what came next.
Their best bet was to run. But, knowing their luck, God would get the last laugh in the end. Motherfucker always did.