Chris, too, stepped out. His eyes landed on a sight that made the entirety of him glow.

The driver was twisted at the waist on the ground at an unnatural angle. His face, thrown against the pavement, a hoof print in his pallid cheek.

Necks weren’t supposed to turn that way.

Chris strode over grinning, slapping his hand on his shoulder and throwing his arm about Darius. It was as if he were the closest friend Chris had ever had; someone who had just shared the ultimate in-joke with him.

“Let’s get something to eat.”