“Shut the fuck up and move your ass.” I pump my arms harder, my heart slamming against my ribcage.
We dart between brick buildings and down alleyways hoping to lose the bastards, but their footsteps never cease pounding the concrete behind us. Up ahead is the dark outline of the woods, the same ones that run behind our hotel.
Without a second thought, I veer right, plunging into the tree line. But when I glance over my shoulder expecting to see Raiyne, he's nowhere to be found. The idiot must have gone left instead.
Fuck my life.
Last thing I need right now is for my friend to get hurt. However, when I slow down to double back, Jackson comes into view. So, I turn and head further into the woods.
Branches whip at my face and arms, the darkness pressing in around me like a living thing. My lungs burn with each gasping breath, and my legs ache. But I can't stop. I won't stop. Not until I'm sure I've lost him or until my body gives out.
Whichever comes first.
Chapter 3
Jackson
When we found out the Serpents were staying at the same hotel, the temptation to fuck with Blackwell was too much. It was a bonus finding his teammate with him. Until freaky Peter Pan banked left and charged Connor, throwing his body at our captain’s knees. Then he came out of the move like a goddamn panther and started running.
The other four took off after the piece of shit. But I stayed on Blackwell, chasing him into the woods.
Not the best move. A tree root can take us out just as easily being there’s zero fucking light right now.
But it makes it more fun, and damn it, I’m hard as hell. No idea why. Maybe it’s the chase. Or the promise of a good fight.
Who cares?
I’m amped the fuck up.
Ahead of me, Killian weaves between tree trunks. He’s fast, a tad stronger than me if I’m being honest, but I’m more agile. It’s the reason I evade most of his hits.
One on one, we’re evenly matched. Same height, same build, probably same weight. It’s why our fans love to watch us fight. The winner usually pulls some dick move or takes advantage of a miscalculation or slip in focus.
Like right now.
The golden blond-haired shithead looks over his shoulder, twisting a bit too much that he slows down a fraction, so I double my efforts and run full speed into him. He hits the tree trunk, and a roaring groan cuts through the night as he falls to the ground in a heap.
“Thought you could get away, dipshit?”
Before I can reach down and punch his golden boy face, something hits the back of my legs below my calves and I’m airborne until I hit the ground with a resounding thud.
“Fuck you, Reed.” He launches himself at me and straddles my chest, knees pressed into my underarms.
Dammit.
Can’t buck him off.
“What’s the matter?” He looks like one pissed off tiger, especially with the blood trail running from the corner of his mouth to his clean, sharp jawline. “Look at you, trapped like a rabbit in a snare.”
I move to dig my elbows into his inner thighs, but he grabs my wrists pinning them with one hand above my head. My dick throbs and twitches, my hips giving a little buck.
Killian slaps me. Hard. The sting and heat radiate outward. “Couldn’t leave it for the ice. Couldn’t let me have a nice fucking dinner with my friend. Why are you such a goddamn cunt?”
“You’re the pussy who ran. At least your friend put up a fight.” I twist and bite into his forearm, trying as hard as I can to break the skin beneath his shirt.
“Stupid fuck.” He releases my hands but wraps his fingers around my throat, squeezing, his other arm cocked and ready to swing. “I’m going to rearrange your face so even God won’t recognize you.”
I glare up at him and smirk. “I’m an atheist. Fire away, motherfucker.”
