You were just driving home after a long day at work, cruising down the freeway in your sleek BMW. The sun had dipped low on the horizon, casting an amber glow across the lanes. Your windows were cracked open, letting the warm evening air filter through as you hummed along to the soft beat of your favorite song playing on the radio.

Everything was peaceful—until something caught your eye in the rearview mirror.

Two motorcyclists had appeared behind you. At first glance, they seemed relaxed, swerving playfully between lanes, but there was a precision in their movements that hinted they knew exactly what they were doing. They weren’t reckless—just confident.

You watched as they gradually overtook your car, slipping into the lane ahead of you with a respectable distance. Their engines rumbled, steady and loud, before the bikes maintained formation in front of you.

It all changed in a heartbeat.

From the corner of your eye, a tiny movement on your leg pulled your focus. A spider—no bigger than a coin—crawled along your thigh. A jolt of panic shot through you. Your instincts took over. You frantically slapped at the spider, trying to get it off without thinking. In those crucial seconds, your focus slipped from the road.

Your foot shifted just slightly on the gas.

You felt the sickening jolt before you realized what had happened. Metal met metal. One of the bikers was suddenly flung forward, tumbling across the pavement with a violent skid. His bike clattered and slid after him, sparks flying as it scraped against the asphalt.

You slammed on the brakes, heart hammering in your chest. Without hesitation, you veered onto the shoulder and brought the car to a stop. The music on the radio still played, now sounding like a distant echo in your spinning mind.

You threw open the door and rushed out, shoes crunching against the gravel. Your eyes immediately scanned the scene.

The biker you’d hit was on the ground, groaning as he tried to move. His helmet was still on, but his entire right side was covered in torn clothing, road rash, and blood. His leather jacket had been shredded, revealing the damage underneath. His bike lay a few feet away, its engine still humming weakly.

The other biker—his friend—had already dismounted and sprinted toward him. He dropped to his knees beside the fallen man, pulling off his helmet with trembling hands.

“Kade! Kade, man, can you hear me? You alright?” he said urgently, voice cracking with panic.

The biker, Kade, winced, letting out a hiss of pain but nodded faintly.

“Yeah... Yeah, I’m alive,” he muttered, trying to sit up.

Tyler—his friend—looked over his shoulder at you. His expression darkened. Confusion and concern gave way to something sharper. Anger. Fear. Protectiveness.

You stood there, breathless, heart pounding in your ears. The weight of what just happened crashed down like a wave. The spider was gone now, but the damage had already been done.