Bennett regretted everything approximately twenty minutes into the drive.

The Musketeers were packed into his black Audi, the nice one, windows down, sun already bleeding across the hood.

Jordan was in the front seat.

And Jordan was singing.

Loudly.

Off-key.

Making up worse and worse lyrics to songs on the radio.

Declan looked like he wanted to throw himself out of the moving car.

Naomi was clenching her iced coffee like it was a lifeline.

Bennett gripped the wheel tighter with every passing minute.

"Jordan," he said through his teeth, "I'm begging you. Shut up."

"I'm the heart and soul of this group," Jordan said brightly, tapping the dashboard.

"You should be thanking me."

"You're the reason I need blood pressure medication," Declan muttered from the back.

Naomi leaned forward slightly. "Bennett, if you don't pull over soon, I'm suing for emotional damage."

Bennett swerved into a turnout without a word.

Jordan yelped, catching himself on the dashboard.

"OUT," Bennett said flatly.

Jordan blinked, affronted. "Wait, what—"

Naomi sighed, unbuckling smoothly. "Switch seats. Now."

Jordan huffed but climbed out, flopping into the backseat dramatically.

Naomi slid into the front passenger seat like this was just standard survival.

Jordan, now squeezed next to Declan, immediately spread out like he owned the whole back row.

"Miss me?" he asked, elbowing Declan.

Declan stared straight ahead. "Touch me again and I'm breaking your fingers."

⸻

They drove in tense silence for fifteen blessed minutes.

Then Jordan nudged Declan's knee.

"You're brooding harder than usual," he said casually. "That a medical condition?"

Declan didn't even blink. "Touch me again and I'll kill you."

Jordan grinned, leaning a little closer, just enough to be annoying.

Declan's patience snapped.

He shoved Jordan hard in the shoulder, not a joke shove, a real one.

Jordan hit the door with a muffled "Ow!" and immediately shoved Declan back harder.

Naomi yelped as her coffee nearly went flying into the footwell.

Bennett cursed viciously under his breath and jerked the car into another turnout.

"OUT. Switch."

Declan practically launched himself from the backseat, storming into the front passenger seat.

Jordan plopped into the middle, looking extremely satisfied.

Naomi sighed and slid into the back, resigned.

Bennett didn't say anything for a long moment.

Just gripped the wheel like he was imagining new friends.

"If either of you move," he said very quietly, "I will leave you here."

Jordan kicked Declan's seat lightly once, just to live dangerously.

Declan didn't even turn around, just flipped him off.

The rest of the drive was mercifully quieter aside from Jordan humming obnoxiously under his breath and Naomi ignoring them all with her earbuds in.

⸻

They were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago.

Instead, the Phantoms: Dominic, Arya, Sky, Tessa, Davina, Tyler plus Daphne, were standing in the driveway, surrounded by cars, achieving absolutely nothing.

Seven people.

Seven cars.

Zero functioning plans.

"Someone has to drive," Tessa said, arms crossed, voice already sharp with irritation.

Silence.

No one moved.

"No volunteers?" Dominic said, raising an eyebrow.

Still nothing.

Sky leaned lazily against the hood of Tyler's black Range Rover, munching trail mix like he was watching a slow-motion car crash.

"Cool," he said. "We'll just teleport."

"I'll drive!" Arya said brightly, springing up from where she was sitting on the curb.

The reaction was instant.

"NO!"

Six voices screamed in unison.

Arya froze mid-motion, looking around like she'd been personally betrayed.

"Wow," she said, clutching her chest dramatically. "Democracy is dead."

"You almost killed us last time," Dominic said, not even looking up from his phone.

"It was one red light!" Arya protested.

"And a stop sign," Tessa said.

"And a mailbox," Sky added helpfully.

"And my will to live," Davina muttered.

Arya scowled, flipping them all off.

Daphne, who had been quietly sipping her smoothie the whole time, finally piped up with a sweet smile. "You backed over the curb three times trying to leave the coffee shop last month."

"It was a difficult curb!" Arya snapped.

"It was painted neon yellow," Tyler said.

"It had a warning sign bigger than your ego."

Arya threw her hands in the air. "I'm being persecuted!"

"You're being protected," Tessa said dryly.

"From yourself," Sky added.

"And from us," Dominic finished.

Davina tossed her car keys lazily in the air and caught them again. "I'll ride with Dominic," she said. "Luxury over death, thanks."

Dominic smirked and patted the top of his sleek silver McLaren GT parked at the end of the driveway. "Premium service, baby."

"Don't ever say that again," Sky said instantly.

"Yeah, you're lucky I'm too lazy to start a fight today," Tessa muttered.

Tyler shook his head, already climbing behind the wheel of his black Range Rover.

"Daphne's with me. You clowns can fight for the backseat."

"No fighting necessary," Tessa said sweetly, already sliding into the Range Rover's back seat and hip-checking Sky out of the way.

Sky yelped, glaring at her, then crammed himself into the last seat anyway.

Meanwhile, Arya squeezed dramatically into the tiny backseat of Dominic's McLaren behind Davina, muttering about betrayal under her breath.

Dominic pulled out first, engine purring smugly down the road.

Tyler and Daphne followed in the Range Rover, windows down, music already blasting so loud it shook the neighbourhood.

Somehow, somehow the Phantoms had finally left the driveway.

Only thirty-five minutes late.

New personal record.

⸻

Dominic's Car:

It was quieter inside the McLaren.

Well, quieter compared to the Range Rover a few streets over.

Dominic drove with one hand on the wheel.

Davina sat in the passenger seat, designer sunglasses perched on her nose, flipping through radio stations with ruthless efficiency.

"You're skipping every good song," Arya complained from the backseat, chin on the headrest between them.

"I have taste," Davina said coolly.

"You have control issues," Arya shot back.

Dominic chuckled under his breath, not even hiding it.

"I'll allow one crime song," he said.

"Choose wisely."

Arya leaned forward dramatically. "We need absolute chaos energy."

Davina sighed like she was being asked to commit murder. "God help us."

Arya grinned, tapping into Dominic's playlist and queuing the worst, most upbeat pop song she could find.

The speakers blared immediately, bright, fast, and obnoxious.

Dominic snorted.

Davina groaned and slammed her head lightly against the window.

"You're both banned," she muttered.

Arya just kicked her feet up against the back of Dominic's seat, victorious.

It was warm, stupid, easy, the kind of energy that meant even if they annoyed each other constantly, they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

Tyler's car:

Absolute chaos.

No other word for it.

Tyler was driving way too fast down the back roads, one arm slung lazily over the wheel like he was starring in a bad action movie.

Daphne sat in the passenger seat, serene as always, sipping her smoothie and pretending she didn't know any of these people.

The backseat was a war zone.

Sky and Tessa were fighting like they were actual siblings, loud, petty, vicious, over absolutely nothing.

"I'm objectively better looking," Sky said, propping his feet against the door and tossing his hair dramatically.

Tessa snorted so hard she almost choked.

"You're not even top five in this car."

"There's only four of us, idiot!"

"Exactly."

Tyler burst out laughing so hard he had to slap the steering wheel.

"She got you there, man," Tyler wheezed.

Sky looked personally wounded. "You're just jealous," he snapped at Tessa. "Some of us don't need to threaten people to get attention."

"Some of us," Tessa said sweetly, "don't cry over split ends either."

"Those were dark times!" Sky shouted.

Daphne finally cut in without looking up from her phone. "You're both equally annoying."

Tessa and Sky glared at each other, but neither argued because honestly, it was fair.

Tyler just grinned wider and cranked the music up louder, loud enough that it shook the doors, early 2000s punk rock howling over the screaming.

By the time they hit the beach turnoff, the Range Rover sounded like it had survived a small war.

And they still had enough energy left to cause more.