Mr.Stamp

Previously

…We watched as the black SUV, a retreating silhouette against the twilight, finally disappeared from view. The relief was palpable, a physical weight lifting from my shoulders. But it was a temporary reprieve. I knew that. The Don was not the forgiving type. And Jacob, well, Jacob was still Jacob. “Next town,” I said, my voice firm. “And then we change everything. Hair, clothes, story. Everything.” Jacob nodded, his gaze now fixed on the road ahead, a flicker of something akin to hope in his eyes. He was a survivor, and for the moment, we both were. But the road ahead was long, and the shadows, I knew, were never truly gone. They just learned to wait.