Page 29 of Pretty Savage: Defy

Carrson Ashford. Art by: Runfeng Wu

Chapter six

Six Days Until Bonding

Laurel

By early evening, nothing about Sealed by Sight feels less horrible.

Crickets are singing when Carrson tells me to wait by the front door so he can pull the car around. I’ve got my small, battered suitcase by my feet and my backpack on my shoulder. It’s still fall break, which is crazy given everything that’s happened. The kidnapping, the whipping, being reunited with Carrson. It feels like weeks should have gone by, but it’s only been a couple of days.

A mechanical roar sounds from the side of Ashford House, and I turn my head to watch as Carrson drives up in the most ridiculous car I’ve ever seen. The thing is low to the ground and wedge-shaped, like it should be a doorstopper for giants. It’s matte black, and when the doors open they rotate up into the air like a bird spreading its wings.

Carrson hops out and jogs over to grab my suitcase, which he places in the trunk. Good thing I packed light because not much else would fit in there. He gestures to the passenger seat, but I can’t move. I’m too busy staring.

“What,” I point, “is that?”

“My car.” He pats the hood affectionately. “One of them, anyway.”

“That’s not a car,” I argue, “that’s a spaceship.”

“It’s a Lamborghini.”

“A Lamborghini,” I repeat slowly.

“Yeah. A Lamborghini Revuelto.” The word flows off his tongue like he speaks fluent Italian. Wait, does he speak Italian? I’ve never thought to ask.

In my defense, we’ve been kind of busy.

I take a step down the stairs. “How much does it cost?”

“A lot.”

There are shadows under his eyes and strain around his mouth, but he smirks anyway. I know what he’s doing. He can’t give me an answer for everything waiting ahead of us. He can’t make The Order disappear or undo what Jack demanded. So he’s offering me something else: a ridiculous car, a road trip, a few hours where fear doesn’t rule every moment of our lives.

Part of me wants to snap at him, remind him how precarious everything is. But no one knows that better than Carrson. He’s watching me, waiting to see whether I’ll let him have this, if I’ll play along, and it occurs to me maybe he needs the reprieve as badly as I do.

“A lot? That’s not a number.” I narrow my eyes dramatically.

“A very lot.” His grin widens, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

I plant a hand on my hip. “You know, a few months ago I was delivering pizza and had eleven dollars in my bank account.”

“Now you’re dating a guy with a Lamborghini.” He walks over to me and holds out his hand, grinning more easily. “Isn’t life wild?”

I let him drag me down the steps.

“Come on. You’re going to love it. It has four wheels and goes vroom vroom.” He helps me into my seat like he’s Prince Charming and we’re starring in some bizarre remake of Cinderella. Except Cinderella wasn’t kidnapped by a rival gang leader and driven around in the Batmobile.

I climb inside, worried about getting dirt on the carpets, which are pristine. The seat hugs me from seven different angles. The door closes with a muffled whir, and then Carrson’s in the front seat with his hand on the wheel.

He presses a button, and the interior lights up while the engine roars to life. An entire TV screen appears on the dashboard before me. There’s another screen in front of him. I poke at a button and YouTube appears with a cat dancing in a tutu. “There’s more screens in here than at NASA Mission Control.”

“That’s not true.” Carrson watches me with amusement dancing in his eyes. “NASA has at least one more.”

I face him. “You don’t actually know how many screens NASA has.”

“Yes, I do.” He flips on the turn signal and glances in the side mirror.