“Duck,” I bark.
She does.
I slam my foot down harder, the engine howling.
For a heartbeat, it’s a game of chicken—him with his payout, us with nowhere else to go.
He breaks first, diving to the side as we roar past. A shot cracks, punching a hole through the windshield on the passenger side, spiderwebbing the glass inches from Lark’s head.
She yelps, ducking lower. “Okay,” she gasps. “Not a fan. One star. Would not recommend.”
“You okay?” I grunt, fighting the wheel as we hit a rut.
“I’m fine. Windshield’s not,” she says. “You?”
“Adrenaline’s doing all the work,” I say. “Check the back window. Are they following in a car?”
She twists in her seat, peering through shattered glass.
“I see movement near the cabin,” she says. “Flashlights. But no headlights yet. I don’t think they had time to park anyone closer than the access lot.”
“Then we’re ahead,” I say, more to convince myself.
The service road vomits us out onto the old county highway—a strip of cracked asphalt winding through the dark trees. No street lights, no houses. Just miles of empty.
I gun it, still no headlights, counting on the weak glow of the dash and the sliver of moon to keep us out of the ditch.
Lark braces one hand on the dash, the other clutching the oh-shit handle.
“At what point,” she says tightly, “do we tell Arrow that his ‘stay put’ plan is officially not working?”
“Soon as we’re far enough that we’re not handing these assholes the GPS coordinates to the cabin and the car at the same time,” I say. “Another ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.”
“Can we survive ten minutes?” she asks.
“That’s the fun part,” I say. “We’re about to find out.”
She snorts, a shaky little sound, and then reaches over and grabs my forearm, her fingers squeezing tight.
“Hey,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“We’re not dying tonight,” I say it, meaning every word. “Not after… all of this. Not when we haven’t even told your brother yet. I refuse to let my ‘we’re dating’ announcement be a memorial.”
Despite everything, a choked laugh escapes her.
“Dark,” she says, “but fair.” She stares straight ahead at the broken road, jaw set.
“I’m serious,” I say. “You don’t get to die on me. Not here, not like this, not for sixty stupid Bitcoin. I will follow you into hell if I have to, but I am not doing it tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, quietly.
The road stretches out in front of us, an endless strip of cracked black. Behind us, no headlights yet. For now, it’s just us and the empty.
“We’re going to need a new plan,” Lark says after a moment, voice calmer. “Cabin’s burned.”
“Yeah,” I say. “We’re mobile now whether we want to be or not.”
