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“I promise we won’t stay here long.” Taking a swift winding exit with a slight skid, he grabs the steering wheel with both hands.
Fuck my life.
“This place…” I hate it.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Arabella…”
“They drowned you. You could’ve died.” I’ve refused to return since.
“Hardly—” His hard retort is jarred to a sudden stop together with the car. The lightweight chassis of Freddie’s sleek Merc skids forward, barely missing Murphy’s Range.
In the silence of the aftermath, all I can do is grab hold of the arm Christopher has stretched across me.
“Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck?” He checks me over, his hand reaching for the glovebox but retreating the minute Freddie bursts out of the Range. Fleur is pressed to him like he’s performing the Heimlich on her.
He looks petrified as she projectiles into the dilapidated undergrowth on the side of the road.
The security vehicle following behind us pulls to a stop beside the Merc. I keep waiting for the other cars to pull up the bend behind us, but there’s nothing. Nothing but fraught silence fills the luxury interior, his body tensing as Murphy jumps out of the Range and runs back towards us.
Obvious worry clouds his normally shut-off expression. That on its own is enough to tell me something is seriously wrong, but together with Christopher’s tightening muscles…
“Where are Casper and Leo? Why aren’t they behind us?”
Shit, Georgina and Cassie…
My mind goes st
raight to the worst-case scenario. Visions of another attack. Another car wreck. More blood and more loss.
I can’t control my breathing as Christopher lowers his window to allow Murphy to inform us of what’s happening.
“Slight change of plan.” Murphy leans into the car. “We’re being followed.”
Reaching for Christopher instinctively, I try to find some modicum of calm or strength in his warmth. His roped forearm is coiled tight though, and it does nothing to soothe my worry.
“The guys have been monitoring the situation. We thought we lost them down by Lancaster, but they managed to catch up again.”
“Casper? Leo?” My heart thunders in my chest at the sound of their names, my stomach twisting like a hurricane. I’m a living, breathing storm of panic and fear. At the same time, I’m ready to do what it takes to ensure this doesn’t become another battle we lose. I refuse to part with any more people I love. I refuse to give any more of myself to these bastards hunting us down for righting their wrongs. Or at least trying to.
We’re nothing but targets on an open field. Our enemies are using us as bait.
How ridiculously clever.
Dragging myself from my dire thoughts, I concentrate on the conversation between Christopher and Murphy.
They’re hardly in their thirties, yet they both look worldly. They both bear being-deep scars that mature their smooth features into something fierce and intense. Their lines are sharp, their features piercing. So different, yet so similar.
“Casper and Leo are handling the straggler situation.”
Punching into overdrive, my heart pounds the feeling out of my chest, and my whole body goes from cold to straight-up freezing.
Murphy raps the roof with his knuckles as he stands tall, searching around us for any source of danger. “I think it would be safer to swap you into one of the Defenders. Mr. Hamilton dri—”
“You can call him Fred.”
