But there was no time for that.
“Talk,” Slash demanded, looking between the two of us.
“There was a… negotiation,” Sway started. “Everything was… under control. But then some animal or something snapped a twig somewhere, and all hell broke loose.”
“They thought you brought more guys,” Slash guessed.
“Seems like it. We were all fighting. I heard Raff howl in pain. I guess when he got stabbed. Then there was a gunshot,” Sway said, turning to me.
So everyone else did too.
“And their guy was down. And everyone scrambled.”
“He dead?” Slash asked.
“I think so,” I said, thinking about how still his chest had been even before he crashed down. “But I didn’t shoot him.”
“What do you mean you didn’t shoot him?” Sway asked, stiffening.
“It wasn’t me. He was behind me. Taking aim, from the looks of things.”
“If you didn’t shoot him, who did?” Slash asked.
“There was a woman…”
CHAPTER FOUR
Dylan
“Shit, shit, shit,” I gasped, weaving through the trees as the head and taillights of the cars and bikes disappeared in opposite directions.
I’d only stood there a moment longer than everyone else, my gaze pinned on the body on the ground, watching his chest for movement.
It never came.
I’d killed him.
And my gun didn’t have a silencer.
We were in the middle of nowhere, sure.
But someone would have heard. They could have called it in.
I had togo.
My blood turned to mercury—heavy and cold.
My heart hammered against my ribcage like a caged bird.
I reached my bike, threw on my helmet, turned over the engine, and got the hell out of there.
My belly bottomed out at the breakneck speed and the sharp curves of the road.
My blood was rushing through my ears too loudly to even hear if sirens were coming, if they were after me.
I wanted to speed all the way back to my apartment building, but forced myself to slow, then pull off the road.
I walked my bike deeper off the road until it couldn’t be seen before taking off on foot.
