Page 163 of Fatality

Evren yanks the door open, grabs me by my upper arm, and hauls me out.

I gasp and drive my fist into his solar plexus.

He lets out a soft oof, but nothing more.

“You can fight back, I don’t care.” He leans close to my ear. “Now, behave.”

His tongue flicks out just below my ear, making me yelp and squeeze my eyes shut for a second to compose myself.

Fuck that man.

I swear he plays too much, and I’m done letting him play like this.

He steps back.

Then he heads over to Neo, who’s busy downing some kind of neon-green liquid.

What the fuck is that?

Every time he takes a shot, he grimaces and howls like a dying animal.

Disgusting.

And they call me feral? The pot calling the kettle black.

I’m left alone by his car.

But I know—God knows how—that either he or one of his dogs is watching me closely.

So, I will play along, for now. Until an opportunity presents itself.

And when it does, I’ll get the fuck out of here.

Even if I have to walk for hours, even if I have to crawl. I’m getting out.

I turn my head and look at the crowd. It’s a lot smaller than the race where I first met Evren.

Honestly, it almost feels like some kind of reunion between old school buddies.

Which is… kind of cute.

If you ignore the screaming animals, the drinking, and the illegal races. Then it’s just a bunch of lunatics having a wholesome get-together.

I catch a few men making their way toward me, but before they even get within five meters—or before I can insult their ancestors for the next ten generations—one of Evren’s dogs cuts them off and sends them elsewhere.

Like I can’t defend myself.

That alone makes my blood boil.

I’m not some helpless doll, I can protect myself.

And the fact that they don’t even give me the chance to prove it pisses me off.

I know, they know I can, because with what I said or did to Ren, or worse to Evren, I’ll already be dead by now if not.

I scoff and turn my attention to the races.

At the starting line, a bike and a car sit side by side.