After about thirty minutes, he suddenly veered off the highway and stopped next to a dilapidated bus shelter. There was no one around, just empty fields.

“Get out,” he said curtly.

“Why? I don’t understand.”

“Get. Out. We’re here.”

I obediently opened the door and stepped onto the shoulder. The wind immediately whipped my hair around. I turned, expecting him to get out, too, but Marcus didn’t even turn off the engine. He just stared at me through the windshield.

“Marcus, what’s going on? Where is this person?”