Chapter 1 — Breakdown on the Edge of Nowhere

Rachel

The car sputtered once, twice, and then died—its sleek, German-engineered perfection rendered a lifeless hunk of metal on the shoulder of a dusty rural road. Rachel Fairmont gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles blanching as the dashboard flashed a final, damning message: “ENGINE FAILURE.”

“Fantastic,” she muttered through clenched teeth, her voice sharp with frustration. She guided the car to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Outside, the landscape stretched endlessly—fields of green and gold rippling under a pale, cloudless sky. The scene could have been plucked from a pastoral daydream, but to Rachel, it was a taunt, another reminder of how far she was from where she needed to be.

She snatched her phone from the cupholder, her pulse picking up as she glanced at the screen. One bar. One feeble, flickering bar of service. She jabbed at the email icon, watching as the app wheezed and stalled before the dreaded "No Connection" message popped up. Holding her breath, she tried dialing her client—the client she’d spent months preparing to dazzle. The shrill beep of a failed call cut through the silence.

“Come on,” she hissed, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat with more force than necessary. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the cool leather of the steering wheel. How could this be happening? Months of late nights, endless revisions, and meticulous planning—all hinging on a meeting she might now miss because of a mechanical failure. She couldn’t let this happen. Not now. Not when she was so close to proving herself.

Straightening, Rachel inhaled deeply through her nose and forced her focus outward. There had to be a solution. “There’s always a solution,” she murmured, the words firm, like a mantra she could will into reality.

Snatching up her phone again, she Googled the nearest mechanic. The signal crept along, loading the page one agonizing pixel at a time. Finally, a single result appeared: *Riverbend Auto Shop.* No website. No reviews. Just a phone number and an address in a town she’d never heard of.

“Perfect,” she said bitterly, hitting the dial button. The phone rang three times before a voice answered, low and rough, like gravel underfoot.

“Riverbend Auto.”

“Hi, yes,” Rachel said quickly, relief knotted with impatience. “I’m stranded just outside town. My car broke down, and I need someone to—”

“Make and model?” the voice interrupted, curt and disinterested.

Rachel blinked. “It’s a 2021 Audi Q5, but as I was saying—”

“Hmm.” The man grunted, the pause that followed deliberate. “Where are you?”

She rattled off the mile marker she’d passed, her words clipped. “Look, when can you—”

“I’ll be there in twenty,” he said, and the line went dead.

Rachel stared at her phone in disbelief. No pleasantries, no confirmation—just a dial tone. She dropped the phone into her lap, exhaling sharply. “Unbelievable.”

Outside, the air was warm and dense, carrying the faint tang of earth and grass. Rachel paced beside her car, her tailored heels sinking into the loose gravel with every step. She fiddled with the small gold compass pendant around her neck, the metal cool against her fingers. Her mother’s words echoed faintly in her mind: *“Always find your direction.”* Right now, though, her direction felt more like a dead end.

The oppressive silence of the countryside pressed down on her. No sirens, no honking horns, no hum of city life. Just the occasional rustle of wind through the grass and the distant cry of a bird. She glanced down at her phone again, willing it to find a signal, but the single bar remained stubbornly useless. Her fingers tightened around the pendant.

When the faint rumble of an approaching engine finally broke the stillness, Rachel’s head snapped up. A battered blue tow truck appeared on the horizon, trailing a thin plume of dust as it closed the distance. It rolled to a stop in front of her car, its paint chipped and rust creeping along the edges.

The driver climbed out—a tall, broad-shouldered man in grease-stained flannel and worn jeans. His dark brown hair was tousled, his stubbled jawline catching the light. Piercing blue eyes swept over her car with a mix of amusement and skepticism.

“This your car?” he asked, his voice as rough as it had sounded over the phone. His gaze flicked briefly to her, then back to the Audi.

“No, I’m just standing here for fun,” Rachel shot back, crossing her arms.

One corner of his mouth twitched, the hint of a smirk barely there before it vanished again. Without a word, he strode past her, circling the car like a predator sizing up prey. His movements were measured, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. Rachel followed him, her heels crunching against the gravel.

“Can you fix it?” she asked, her tone sharper than intended.

“Not here.” He crouched to peer under the hood. “Engine’s fried. I’ll have to tow it back to the shop.”

Her stomach dropped. “How long will that take?”

He straightened, brushing a smudge of grease off his hand. “Depends on the damage.”

Rachel’s jaw tightened. “Depends?” she echoed, her voice climbing. “I have a meeting in three hours. I can’t—”

“Not gonna happen,” he interrupted, his tone calm but final. “Even if I had the parts—and I probably don’t—it’d take at least a day to get this running again.”

She opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself, realizing it would be futile. The man in front of her was immovable, as solid and unyielding as the landscape around them. She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to speak evenly. “Fine. Let’s get it to the shop.”

Elias nodded, his expression unreadable, and began attaching the tow cables with efficient precision. Rachel hovered nearby, watching as he worked. His hands, streaked with grease, moved with practiced ease, tightening each strap with care. His calm, methodical approach grated on her nerves, but she couldn’t deny it was… reassuring, in its own way.

“What’s your name?” she asked abruptly.

“Elias,” he said, not looking up.

“Rachel,” she offered, though he hadn’t asked.

“Noted,” he replied, his tone flat but not entirely dismissive.

Fifteen minutes later, the Audi was secured, and Rachel climbed into the cab of the tow truck. The interior smelled faintly of motor oil and cheap pine air freshener, a jarring contrast to the leather and subtle perfume of her own car. She smoothed her skirt as she buckled her seatbelt, fixing her gaze out the window.

The truck jolted forward, its suspension groaning with every bump in the road. Rachel gripped the door handle, her unease growing with each lurch. The silence between her and Elias stretched, heavy and awkward.

“So,” she began, searching for small talk, “is this Riverbend?”

“Just outside it,” he said, his eyes on the road.

“Is it… big?”

“Not really.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she tried again. “I imagine you don’t get many Audis out here.”

Elias glanced at her, one brow quirking slightly. “Not often.”

That faint smirk returned, and Rachel felt her irritation spike. Giving up on conversation, she turned her attention to the scenery. Fields blurred past, broken occasionally by dense clusters of trees or weathered farmhouses. It was picturesque, she supposed, in the way postcards were. Quiet. Simple. *Boring.*

When the truck finally slowed, Rachel looked up to see a modest brick building with wide garage doors and a hand-painted sign that read “Riverbend Auto Shop.” The gravel lot crunched beneath the truck’s tires as Elias parked.

He climbed out, and Rachel followed, once again regretting her choice of heels as they sank into the uneven ground. Inside, the shop was meticulously organized, every tool in its place. The air smelled of motor oil and sawdust, with the faint hum of a radio playing an old country tune in the background. In the corner, a car sat under a tarp, its contours hinting at a classic model.

“You can wait here,” Elias said, gesturing to a wooden chair near the entrance.

Rachel hesitated, her gaze sweeping the space. The shop was clean, but the faint tang of grease lingered in the air, foreign and slightly claustrophobic. She lowered herself onto the chair and crossed her legs, her fingers drifting again to her necklace.

Elias disappeared into the back, leaving her alone with her thoughts. The weight of the situation settled over her like a shadow. She wasn’t just stranded on the side of the road—she was stranded in an entirely different world.

As she sat there, the faint sound of Elias working drifted through the shop. The rhythmic clink of tools against metal was oddly soothing, pulling her focus. Her eyes flicked again to the covered car in the corner, curiosity sparking despite herself. For the first time in years, Rachel felt a strange pull—a sense that perhaps this detour was the start of something she hadn’t planned. Something she might not be able to control.