"I know how to fucking follow someone,Mom."
"Given your subtlety in all other areas of life, forgive me for doubting."
I pull out of our spot, keeping three cars between us and Valek's sedan as we merge into traffic. The afternoon sun glares off everything, making it hard to see, but I can track that black car easy enough. It moves through the normie cars that make up the rest of traffic like a shark through brightly colored fish.
"Where do you think he's going?" I ask, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.
"How would I possibly know that?"
"I don't know, use your big brain. Make an educated guess."
Plague gives a tired sigh. "Based on the direction, either back to the airport or?—"
"Wait." Plague's entire body goes rigid, his pale eyes tracking something I can't see. "He's checking his mirrors. Repeatedly."
"So?"
"So he already knows we're following him. Why else?" Plague's voice drops to that icy tone that means shit's about to get real.
"How could he possibly?—"
Valek's brake lights flash for a split second, then the black sedan rockets forward, cutting across two lanes of traffic in a move that has horns blaring and tires screeching.
"FUCK!" I slam the accelerator, the SUV lurching forward with all the grace of a drunk rhino. "Hold on!"
Plague grabs the oh-shit handle. "Don't lose him!"
"What do you think I'm trying to do?" I growl, wrestling the wheel as we take a corner too fast. The SUV tilts dangerously, and for a second I think we're gonna tip, but somehow we stay on four wheels.
Valek's sedan is already three blocks ahead, weaving through traffic like he drove out of the womb and onto a racetrack. He clips through a yellow light with no chance of staying yellow by the time we reach it.
"Run it," Plague says.
"Are you serious?"
"RUN IT!"
I switch gears and slam on the gas and the SUV blows under the traffic light just as it turns red. Pretty sure that isn't a legal maneuver in Canada, and judging from Plague's stiffness and the muscle ticking in his jaw, he didn't enjoy that.
Goody two-shoes to the end.
"He's heading for the mountain road," Plague observes, his voice unnaturally calm for someone in a high-speed chase. "Less traffic. More dangerous."
"Perfect," I mutter, taking another turn so sharp the tires scream in protest.
The buildings start thinning out, replaced by trees that blur past in a green smear. The road narrows, winding up intothe foothills. Valek's sedan disappears around curves only to reappear further ahead, always just out of reach.
"This is insane," Plague says, but there's something in his voice that sounds almost... excited? "We're literally in a car chase with our own teammate."
"Formerteammate if I have anything to say about it," I grunt, fighting to keep the SUV steady as we hit a patch of loose gravel. "Fucking psycho. Who runs from their own pack?"
"To be fair, Whiskey, we did stalk him all the way to his home town from another country. What exactly are we going to do with him when we catch him, anyway?"
"Interrogate him, obviously. This is our only shot."
"It might not be. We could find him again?—"
"No way, dude. If it were just me in the car, maybe. This is Canada. I'd blend right in with all the other big white dudes in red plaid," I say with a snort. I glance at Plague out of the corner of my eye, taking in his flowing waves of near-black hair, glaring blue eyes that stand out like diamonds against his dark lashes and bronze skin, hisgloves. "You look like a goddamn vampire prince. Not exactly subtle. There's no fucking way he doesn't know who we are if he spotted us."
