Page 163 of Wicked Lessons


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“This one?” I turn left.

“Yes. Now, take the second road on the left.” Her directions continue like this for another ten minutes. Ten minutes of chasing abductors I can’t see in a game where the hunters don’t know they’ve become the prey.

“If you do this in public, someone’s bound to call the police,” she says.

“I trust that you’ll hack into the DVLA and adjust the record for my license plates.”

“Already ahead of you,” she says. “But it’s still a good idea to stop using this car.”

“I’ll hire another.”

“Okay, turn… Huh?”

“Quinn, what’s wrong?” I pull into the kerb.

“The GPS signal just died.”

“How could that happen?”

“They must have found the brooch.”

“Which way did you want me to turn?” I ask.

“Right into Algarve Road. They were heading against the direction of the motorway, but they’re taking the streets so randomly, I won’t be able to predict where they’ll detour next.”

“Leave it with me.” I pull out, turn down the road and slow down to thirty miles an hour. It’s a long stretch of detached houses, broken up by side streets, dead ends, and cul-de-sacs.

No matter how much I try to still my mind, I can’t stop my gut from thrumming with anxiety. This isn’t the same as worrying about Mother.

Crius wouldn’t hurt her, now that he needs his bastard son to help rescue his legitimate son. But he and his men have no incentive to keep Phoenix safe.

Anxiety flashes through my insides like a lightning storm. It’s worse than anything I experienced as a child. Back then, I was blind to the depravities of the underworld. Now, what I’ve seen makes the acid in my stomach seep into my veins.

As I pass a side street on my left, I catch a glimpse of a white van.

It’s the same size as the one I saw parked around the back of the house the day Crius sent the clean up crew. I make a U-turn and follow.

This has to be them.

I don’t hear the sound of my car’s engine, or Quinn’s breathing at the other end of the line. Everything fades under the rapid beat of my pulse.

Hell.

I’ve killed over a dozen men and maimed my own father, but this is the first time I’ll do this in front of someone I—

My throat tightens.

My affection for Phoenix Stahl might surpass anything I feel for Mother, and that’s terrifying. It means one more person Crius can use as a pawn.

Shoving the thought aside, I reach the end of the road and catch the tail lights of the van turning right.

I follow after it, keeping my speed at forty, until the van drives down what looks to be a dead end. As it makes a three-point turn, I stop the car in the center of the road.

The driver sounds his horn. I reach into my waistband and extract the gun. This one has seventeen rounds—enough to deal with both the driver, his partner, and anyone else standing in the way of reaching Phoenix.

I open the door and step out.

The man in the front passenger seat opens his door and raises his gun.

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