He comes out of the house like something violent ripped loose from the dark, one hand braced on the frame for half a second before he launches forward. Blood streaks the side of his head. The balaclava is still on.
Even hurt, he moves with the same terrifying certainty as before, like pain only made him faster.
Sierra screams, and the sound rips through the night so violently everything else vanishes around it.
“He’s coming!” she cries, ducking into the car so fast she nearly falls across the seat. “Oh my God, Cain, he’s coming!”
I slide behind the wheel, slam my door shut, and shove the key into the ignition. The engine catches on the second turn.
“Look at me,” I say sharply.
She turns, tears bright in her eyes, both hands gripping the robe at her chest like it’s the only thing keeping her together.
“We’re getting out of here.” I throw the car into reverse and tear backward out of the drive, tires shrieking against stone before I slam into first and shoot us onto the road hard enough to pin her into the seat.
She grabs the dashboard with one hand and the door with the other. Behind us, the roar of a motorcycle engine rips through the night—loud and violent—instantly pulling a whimper from her. I glance in the mirror and see one white headlight slice into the street behind us, growing larger by the second.
“He’s following us,” she says, voice breaking now. “Cain, he’s following us.”
“I know.” My hands tighten on the wheel as I push the accelerator lower.
Streetlights smear past us in long streaks of gold while the houses on either side of the road collapse into dark, shapeless shadows, and the needle on the speedometer keeps climbing higher beneath my hands on the wheel. Even with the engine straining and the road opening in front of us, that single headlight behind us only grows larger, cutting through the night with terrifying patience.
“He’s going to catch us,” she chokes out, twisting in her seat to look back before forcing herself forward again like the sight of him burns too badly to look at for long.
“Please… faster. Please, Cain, go faster.”
I drag a hard breath through my nose, tighten my hands on the wheel, and press deeper into the speed.
“Hold on!” I say, my voice low and tight as the car surges faster under us. The steering wheel begins to tremble in my hands as the road narrows ahead, rising toward the bridge cutting across the dark river below.
The wind hits harder up here, shoving against the frame, tires whining against the asphalt as the speed turns reckless enough to feel alive.
Beside me, Sierra lets out a frightened sound, eyes wide as she looks from the road to me and back again, finally understanding that whatever happens next will not be gentle.
Then I let the performance die.
No more fear.
No more panic.
No more Cain thehero.
Mask off.
Time for revenge.
My hands go steady on the wheel as my breathing smooths out. When I turn to look at her, there is nothing soft left in my face.
“Jump,” I tell her quietly.
She blinks at me like her brain stopped working.
“Jump now,” I yell as the guardrail rushes toward us in a blur of steel and headlights, “or die with me.”
Her scream tears through the car just as I wrench the wheel hard. Metal explodes around us when we smash through thebarrier, the front of the car bursting past the bridge and hanging for one violent second over open air above the river.
“Now!”
