The Survivors (1)

Lucian wanted to explain further, but before he could say anything, Medeia had already answered his accusatory question.

"No," she said flatly. "We don't expect you to believe us."

Ethan blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Most people, if they were trying to convince him, would do everything in their power to earn his trust. But this woman—this so-called angel—was saying the exact opposite.

Medeia merely shrugged, repeating herself like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I said, we don't need your trust." 

She turned and walked toward the cargo door, pushing it open just enough for the icy wind to whip through the truck's interior. "Actually, if you want to leave, go ahead. No hard feelings."

Ethan peeked through the gap, his gaze landing on the thickening layers of snow outside. The sky had turned an ominous shade of black, a clear sign that another blizzard was approaching.