"Tsk—so stress-free," Ryan groaned, throwing his hands up. "Alright, you two get in."
He waved lazily at Manson. "Buddy, I'm out. See you later."
"Go away," Manson muttered as he stepped into the car.
"Haha—fucker," Ryan laughed under his breath, then glanced at the girls. "Please, go in."
With that, he turned and headed to his own vehicle, which was already waiting.
Hazel and Fiona entered the SUV, the door shutting softly behind them. Inside the SUV, Hazel deliberately took the farthest seat at the back, keeping as much distance as she could. Fiona settled beside her, calm and observant.
Manson was already seated in the middle seat opposite them.
Silence filled the vehicle almost immediately, heavy, charged, and uncomfortably intentional.
Moments later, the convoy began to move.
His jaw remained tight as he stared forward, refusing to look back at either of them. After a moment, he exhaled slowly, as if trying to swallow down the tension pressing against his chest.
