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Carlos shifted in his seat, feeling the tension still lingering between them. He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared out of the window as the trees zipped by in the darkness. His mind was racing, filled with questions he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers to.

After what felt like an eternity, he spoke again. “Olivia,” he began, his voice low and hesitant, “what exactly are we running from? Is it just Edgar, or is there more to this than you’re telling me?”

Olivia’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, her knuckles going white again. She kept her eyes on the road, her jaw clenched in that same determined set that Carlos had seen earlier. He could tell she was trying to think of the right thing to say, the right way to answer his question without giving too much away.

“It’s complicated,” she finally said, her voice quiet but firm.

Carlos scoffed, shaking his head in frustration. “Complicated? Everything with you is complicated, Olivia. I need to know what’s going on. I deserve
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