The weather worsened bizarrely as we drove. I'm usually not skittish about driving in bad weather, but as the miles passed, I felt increasingly anxious. Water pounded against the windshield, thunder boomed, and lightning flashed through the forests.

"What the hell is this?" Roger growled, leaning forward to peer at the sky. "I can't believe it's lasted this long, and it's raining harder—not letting up."

"Can you even see?" I asked, my hands gripping the leather of my seat anxiously as I stared out the windshield. It looked like a vast sheet of gray water, with the occasional flare of the guard car's brake lights ahead.

"I can see," Roger murmured, a little annoyed that I'd questioned his skills. I rolled my eyes, but trusted him. There must be something about his wolf senses that allowed him to see the road better than I could. Still, I was anxious. We could hit another car, a fallen tree, or a lost animal at any moment—how could we possibly see it coming?

My phone lit up in the cupholder, and I released my grip on my seat to grab it. I read a text from Ella. "Roger," I said, glancing at him anxiously. "Ella says it's not even raining at home—"

Suddenly, the car lurched, skidding sideways. I saw the wheel shift in Roger's hands, moving uncontrollably. I heard him curse as the car hydroplaned and drifted at high speed to our left. I shrieked, pressing my eyes closed, my body tense, anticipating a crash.

But we slowed, then stopped. I peeked open my eyes.

"It's all right, Cora," Roger murmured, frustrated but in control. "We skidded, but we're okay. We just hit some high water."

"Where's the other car?" I gasped, still freaked out, looking out the window.

"They got through it," he said, putting the car in park and picking up his phone. He glanced at the road ahead. "I don't know how, though. It looks completely flooded." He spoke to the guards in the car ahead, who had stopped on the other side of the flooded road. They tried to devise a plan, but couldn't come up with much.

"It's no good, Cora," Roger said, hanging up. "They can't come back across. We're going to have to backtrack."

"Seriously?" I asked, wide-eyed. "We can't ford the river?" Roger raised an eyebrow and gestured toward the water, which seemed to be rising by the minute. A whole tree floated by what was quickly becoming a river across the road.

"How did that happen so fast?" I asked, breathless. "Between one car length and another?"

"I don't know," Roger replied, his voice tight. He put the car in reverse, backing away from the rising water. He paused, his brows furrowed.

Then I realized he knew what I was just figuring out: this storm wasn't natural.

"Roger," I whispered, my voice shaking. "What's happening?"

"We're going to get through it, Cora," he promised, his eyes on the road as he turned the car around. "Do you trust me?"

I did. Deep down, I knew I trusted him. Instead of saying so, I just nodded, sitting tensely as we retraced our route. Even then, the storm didn't let up.

Lightning crashed around us, and tree limbs whipped wildly overhead.

When it started to hail—golf-ball-sized pieces of ice—I opened my mouth to say we needed to stop, but Roger beat me to it.

"It's no good, Cora," he murmured. "We have to stop."

"Okay," I breathed, both anxious and relieved. I wanted to stop; I didn't want to drive any longer in that storm, but what awaited us when we stopped? Something was fighting to keep us there. What would happen?

"I think I remember" Roger began, peering out the window, but trailed off. I waited, holding my breath, not wanting to interrupt his concentration. I looked out the windshield with him, unable to tear my eyes away. Then, a red neon glow appeared in the distance. "Yes," he murmured. "A motel. Thank God."

I breathed a sigh of relief as Roger pulled into the parking lot. The wind hit us so hard from the side that the car rocked as he put it in park. The rain was coming sideways now, punishing and incessant. As I stared, baffled by the sudden hurricane conditions, Roger took my hand.

"We can stay in the car if that feels safer," he offered. "ButI think we should get inside. What do you think? Make a run for the lobby?" The lobby was just a few feet away, but in this weather, it felt like running a gauntlet.

"Roger," I said anxiously, looking into his eyes. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," he said, concerned, shaking his head. "But we can't drive in this. Our only choice is to weather the storm. We can do that here, in the cold car, or there," he said, nodding to the motel.

"In a flea-infested bedroom with rusty tap water," I murmured, grimacing at the run-down motel.

"Yup," he said, holding out his hand. "What do you think? Want to make a run for it with me?"

A huge gust hit, making the car feel as if it lifted onto two wheels.

"Yup!" I said, grinning anxiously. "Let's go!" I slapped his hand.

Roger winked, grabbed his door handle, and began to count. "One?"

"Two," I said, smiling.

"Three!" he shouted, and we leaped out into the storm. I was instantly soaked as I sprinted for the motel doors, Roger at my side.