Entwined by Secrets

Cynthia's POV

Rain lashed against the windshield, blurring the already darkened road. The fuel gauge blinked dangerously close to empty, but that wasn't even the worst of my problems. The check engine light had been taunting me for the past twenty miles, and now, with an ominous sputter, my car gave its final, wheezing breath before rolling to a stop.

"Seriously?" I groaned, gripping the steering wheel as if my frustration alone could bring the engine back to life. Turning the key did nothing. Not even a flicker of false hope.

Leaning back, I exhaled sharply and reached for my phone. No signal. Of course. Because life wasn't difficult enough already.

The storm intensified, fat droplets of rain hammering against the roof, turning the quiet highway into an endless stretch of isolation. My fingers tightened around my useless phone. Maybe if I waited a little, another car would pass by, but given how deserted this road had been for the last half hour, I wasn't holding my breath.

A set of headlights pierced through the rain in the distance. Relief surged through me as the dark SUV slowed, pulling up beside my stranded car. The window rolled down, revealing a man with sharp blue eyes and a gaze that immediately unsettled me.

"You need a ride?" His voice was deep, laced with something unreadable.

I hesitated. Taking rides from strangers wasn't exactly at the top of my "good life choices" list. But standing out in the middle of nowhere with a dead car wasn't any safer.

"I-yeah. My car just died, and I have no signal," I admitted, wiping my damp palms against my jeans.

He studied me for a moment, then jerked his chin toward the passenger seat. "Get in."

The hesitation lingered, but the rain was relentless, soaking through my already damp hoodie. With a deep breath, I grabbed my bag and slid into his SUV, the blast of warm air instantly wrapping around me.

The man didn't say much as he pulled back onto the road, his hands steady on the wheel.

"Thanks for this," I offered after a moment, glancing at him.

A slow nod. No words.

Not a talker, then.

"I'm Cynthia," I tried again, hoping to chip away at the awkwardness.

Another small pause before he finally spoke. "Arnaut."