Daisy had never taken the rules very seriously, until now.
Mickey had tied her hands to the steering wheel with a wiry cord. The fire licked the faded surface of the old Chevy with the fury of a teen-aged boy. Her screams resonated from the car like endless echoes broken free from a dark abyss.
Donald grimaced behind the mask that concealed his identity. In that instant, he knew he loved her with everything he could. It would be something he would always look back on with regret. Not that they had killed her, that he had let himself love her.