And Neve’s with them.
If anything happens to either of them . . .
“Morning Sky! Take a right here!” I bark.
Bridger cuts the wheel hard, the SUV lurching as we squeal around the corner, nearly clipping a mailbox.
That’s when I see them. Two figures sprinting across a pristine lawn. Neve’s waving us down. Marlowe’s beside her, hair flying, face pale under the streetlight. Relief punches through me so fast it nearly leaves me breathless. She’s alive. Icollapse back into the seat. It hits me: I was worried about her. Really worried about her. I’m not ready for what that means.
“Oh, fuck,” Bridger snarls.
My relief evaporates instantly. Replaced by pure, blinding rage when Zero comes into view, lunging toward them, gun drawn. I know his eyes are only locked on her. And he’s gaining.
“Run him down if you have to,” I say, my voice flat. Cold.
Bridger doesn’t respond. He just slams his foot on the gas. The engine roars. Zero turns just as the headlights catch him. But he doesn’t move fast enough. The SUV clips him hard. Bone and muscle thud against steel. He rolls, limbs folding over the pavement like a rag doll.
Neve screams.
Marlowe stops dead, eyes wide, chest heaving, frozen in the wash of light.
I’m out the door before we’re fully stopped, the pain in my side tearing like hell fire.
“Lo!”
She stares at me. Shaking. Breath punching out of her lungs. But she’s alive. She’s really here—with the money. It creeps in slow, this warmth in my chest I don’t know what to do with.
She grabs my arms, her fingers trembling. Her throat is bruised. The corner of her mouth is stained with blood.
“Who did that to you?” Whoever it is will pay. Whoever it is will bleed.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs, swiping her hair forward to cover her neck. “I’m so sorry about what Vick did to your mom.” Black streaks of makeup cut down her face. Her pleading eyes undo me.
I don’t know what to do with her apology. All I see is the dark handprints on her skin and the rage is staggering. “Get in the truck.” It’s all I can say.
She nods, hiccuping, stumbling into the SUV with Neve, the two of them slamming the door behind them.
Boom.
The side window detonates. Glass explodes inwards, raining glittering shards down inside the backseat. A guttural scream tears from Marlowe’s throat. Zero’s arm punches through the shattered window, his bloodied fist smashing inward.
I whip around and find Zero, blood on his face, fury in his eyes. He reaches in and grabs. He isn’t going for Lo, though. He’s going for thebag. The leather strap jerks tight in Marlowe’s hands as he claws at it, dragging it through the broken glass like it fucking belongs to him.
That’s my mother’s money.
I don’t think. I move. Pain rips through me as I rush forward. My side screams, the bullet wound a blast of fire with every step. I grab Zero around the chest and tear him off the SUV. He’s solid. Thick-necked. Almost my size. Almost. I get behind him and, in one clean, brutal move, I twist.
The snap is sharp. Final.
“Not your money,” I growl through my teeth.
Zero drops. Dead.
Silence hangs for half a second. Then I hear a soft gasp behind me. I turn and find Marlowe staring through the broken window, bits of glass still clinging to the frame. Her face is lit by the streetlight. Her eyes are wide, stunned. Then she fucking smiles at me.
“Pop the trunk,” I rasp.
Bridger pops it with a click.
