The night after dropping her back at Hawksridge, Kestrel and I had dealt with a dispute with one of our traders on the black market. They wanted more stock for less money. We wanted more money for less stock. The age-old upsets between businesses.
The negotiations hadn’t gone smoothly.
The tension between both sides drained me of my rapidly dwindling energy, and by the time we returned home, I wanted nothing to do with people and fled.
I’d hidden until the moon rose and I could escape without consequence. I needed fresh air. And I needed it now.
I revved my bike down the long drive, heading away from Hawksridge. Turning right off the estate, I leaned into a corner, speeding up until inertia became an enemy trying to steal me from my vehicle.
The rumble of the machine soothed me. The cool wind on my cheeks gave me room to breathe. And the power from the engine made me invincible.
But it was lacking.
I miss it.
I gritted my teeth.
You miss nothing.
I refused to admit that I missed my fucking horse.
I hadn’t ridden since Nila paid the Second Debt. I doubted I would ride again. Not now I was the perfect son and life stopped playing me for a fool.
Every mile I travelled, the fog I craved wisped behind me until I was clearheaded for the first time in weeks. Out here with only squirrels and owls for company, it didn’t matter. I sighed in relief as I reached the outskirts of Buckinghamshire and pulled over onto a verge.
I wasn’t far from home, twenty minutes at most. But the rock walls and overhanging trees of the country lanes could’ve been centuries ago—so far removed from humanity and technology.
Killing the engine, I took off my helmet and fumbled for the pills in my leather jacket. I had no intention of going home without more drugs barricading my system.
“Goddammit,” I growled, unable to open the bottle with my gloves on. Biting the middle finger of my glove, I yanked it off with my teeth.
The two tattoos of Nila’s initials shone in the moonlight.
They sucker-punched me in the gut.
Fuck.
Everything I’d kept buried rose up unhindered on the desolate side of the road.
You’re ruining everything.
I’m ruining nothing.
I was protecting my sister, my brother, myself. I was walking the line I’d been born to walk. I couldn’t do any more than that, and if Nila expected more from me, then tough shit. I had nothing left to give.
A rustle and twig snapped in the field behind the mossy rock wall I’d stopped beside. My ears twitched for more; my eyes tried to see through the darkness.
I couldn’t see a thing.
Ignoring the noise—putting it down to a badger or fox—I tipped a tablet into my hand and tossed it into my mouth. Already, my head pounded and hands shook. Withdrawal was a bitch.
I went to swallow.
I never had time to swallow.
Something hard and brutal struck the back of my skull. I slammed forward, crunching my nose on the handlebars, gushing with blood.
“Shit!” I didn’t know which pain was worse—my nose or the back of my head.
