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A sudden irrational panic clawed at my chest as I accelerated, praying that this weird feeling I felt was nothing but my overall out-of-whack consciousness producing a chemical reaction in my body.
As I drew closer, the flames became clearer.
A wreck.
I slammed the brakes and fishtailed to a stop on the gravel shoulder. My body was suddenly paralyzed, my eyes stuck on the burning vehicle as the sickening realization set in—my Ferrari lay in flames on the side of the road.
Matt, Fee.
I jumped off the bike, tore off my helmet, and took off in a dead sprint.
On the way down, I fumbled with my phone, then dialed for an ambulance, my voice shaking as I described the scene.
“Are there any injured people?” the operator asked, her voice betraying no emotion.
I couldn’t answer, panic crushing my chest. “Just send help!” I shouted, sprinting toward the car.
My heart pounded with terror—were Matteo and Fiona trapped inside?
When I reached the wreck, I dropped the phone in my pocket, then reached for the passenger door and wrenched it open.
I flinched as the intense heat seared my hands, but I forced myself to ignore the pain.
Smoke billowed out, choking me, blinding me for a moment.
The front seats were empty.
No sign of Fiona or Matteo inside.
“Fee, Matt?” I shouted, desperation clawing at my chest.
I looked in the back—struggled to see through the thick smoke. The acrid smell of burning metal and rubber filled my nostrils, choked me, and burned down my lungs.
Empty, as well.
I turned around and scanned the area for any trace of them.
“Matteo! Fiona!” My voice was raw and was followed by a bout of coughing torn from my throat as I searched desperately for any sign of them.
I staggered around the rear, searched the surroundings in the eerie light of the flames, but kept my distance from the heat.
And then I nearly tripped. Over a body crumpled on the ground—Matteo.
“Matt!” I gasped and dropped to my knees beside him.
He lay limp on the ground, his eyes closed and face ashen.
Fuck.
My heart thundered. I grabbed him under his armpits and dragged him a couple of feet away from the wreckage. Then I searched for a pulse; it was weak but there.
I sat back on my haunches when relief washed over me, only for a moment, before my breath got stuck in my throat and my heart thudded dully in my chest as I spotted the blood on my hands.
I opened his jacket. Blood was trickling through his shirt, painting it dark.
Shit.
I tore his shirt open, and blood spouted from a wound in his upper stomach, which looked suspiciously like…a bullet wound?
