It flared, sharp and cruel, and at home it might’ve sent me to my knees. But outside, my boots still pounding the earth, I didn’t mind it so much. Because it would be over soon.
I lived on an island. Sixty square miles of mountains, forests, and sandy beaches. Port towns and rural villages. A bustling island capital known for its nightlife.
Our property was at the highest inhabited point. By design, so we would see the end of the world coming for us, the roads unfinished to slow it down—to slowmedown as I made my second grand escape of the week, my body already tasting the burned powder on my tongue, the smoke in my lungs, even if I did not get that far this time.
I didn’t always. Sometimes I was stronger than I was today. Others, I did not remember the climb.
The descent.
You do not remember anything properly anymore.
I hit a steep ridge that would be even more trying on the way back. My legs moved freely, but gods, it hurt, and if not for the warm air wrapped around my lungs, I’d have found myself lost to the last time I’d dragged my broken body through the wilderness in the dead of night.
You were not alone then.
In all probability, I wasn’t alonenow, but back then I had cared about reaching my destination, if only to save the life of the man who’d saved mine. I did not care much about anything tonight. I felt nothing as I reached the top of my ascent, mysweeping gaze catching the tarpaulin shadow I’d come looking for. The bulky shield that concealed the fastest motorcycle on earth. One of them, anyway. Alexei Ivanov owned the other.
I dragged the tarp from the Ducati. Even in the dark it was unapologetically Panigale red, and if I did not think too hard about it, I did not miss the black version my Sambini kidnappers had tossed into a ditch somewhere close to the Cornish coast—for whatever reason, I couldn’t remember where.
What I did miss?
Strength in my arms. Balance in my core, and the sure-footedness that had allowed me to live a life where I did not pay much attention to where I put my feet.
Cursing, I steered the Ducati down the steep path, trying to recall how I had managed to return it to its hiding place a few days ago. The possibility that I had not—that Jake had paid someone to do it for me—singed like acid in my throat, but in this moment, I did notcareif his minions had seen me crawl back to my house on my knees. That they could see me now, fighting with the rocks to be free. I needed this, like I needed air.
Like I need him.
Sometimes, thoughts of Ranger kept me upright. Others, they made me stumble. They left me weak at the knees, like he always had, and tonight was one of those nights.
The bike wrenched sideways. I heaved it back, shoving him and the long hair he’dgot bladdered and hacked offout of my head, accepting that I could do little about the open wound offeelinghe left behind. That perhaps I needed the shiver in my bones more than whatever madness I would reach tonight.
You are addicted to a man you will never see again.
A tragedy that spurred me down the path and to the road, scrambling for my first hit of the night.
I need this.
I needed a lot of things.
The Ducati finally reached level ground, giving my muscles a break. I eased my weaker leg over the seat, thankful for the enduring stability in the other, and gunned the engine, closing my eyes to the deafening roar. I had become so used to the quiet that I was scared to be without it, but this—this noise. It was life, even if it symbolised an existence I’d forever lost.
Temporary vigour washed over me. I twisted the throttle and the bike catapulted into motion, zipping down a road lit only by long casts of moonlight, every moment snatched and yet prolonged enough to feel eternal. My perception as nuanced as the freedom I chased leaning into the curves, the energy I’d lacked since I’d last smuggled my bike down the mountain finally flooding my veins. It wasn’t enough to soothe the itch, but it would do until I reached the bright lights of the island capital in the distance.
Until I found something better.
The Ducati was fast enough that it did not take me long to reach civilisation, and my ride, despite the recklessness that plagued me, was uneventful.
I hit the busy streets. My bike was loud enough to draw some attention, but that was not a bad thing. I did not mind being seen. Being mistaken for an ordinary idiot. It was safer. We controlled every stretch of land and sea around this side of the island. Aside from genuine tourists, there were few people here that Jake and I didn’t know about. But those few... it would take only one for Jake’s deepest fear to be realised.
The main strip in the capital housed too many bars and clubs to count. One way or another, we owned most of them—the premises, the licensing. The security firms who manned the doors. The invisible agents who mingled with the crowds, ensuring our monopoly on every trade that passed through.
Product.
Documents.
Protection.
The only business we did not embrace was flesh and bone, but it did not stop foolish men trying to sell the women and girls they picked up on the mainland.Trafficked girls.Because it did not matter how much of myself I had given to stealing oxygen from that fire of evil, it continued to burn. A flame that invaded my conscience whether I went looking for it or not.
