The road ahead is empty. Kasien’s voice fills my helmet, steady again.
“We’re good,” he breathes out, with a glint of relieved laughter.
Thank God. No other car follows us before we take the turn toward the woods.
We slow down after maybe fifteen minutes, turning into a dark garage beneath a huge farmhouse drowning in woods and open meadows.
The moment the bike stops, Kasien lifts me off, keeping me against him for a second until my legs stop trembling. Adrien is already loading the black SUV, tossing a sports bag into the backseat, his movements sharp and jittery.
“I have the passes, all covered. We need to go now,” Adrien instructs as he nervously rubs his curly hair, his usual boyish expression now looking tense and stressed. Blood is dripping from his face, his lips swollen and cut open. I grab Kasien’s hand and turn toward the SUV, but he doesn’t move.
I spin back. He’s watching me, eyes soft, the green slipping through, and then he pulls me in and cups my face.
No. No way.
“Kasien, let’s go,” I demand, though my voice cracks and my eyes burn.
This cannot be happening.
“Kasien, you promised, let’s go!” I pull on his hand, but he’s carved from stone, he looks as if he’s thinking, going through some scenarios in his head.
“They won’t kill me, I promise,” he murmurs, and the certainty in his voice terrifies me.
Adrien grabs Kasien’s shoulder.
“Stop fucking torturing yourself. We can have a life. All of us. We’re not going without you. I’m not going without you. Now move!”
Kasien drags a hand over the bridge of his nose in frustration and Adrien uses the moment to grab me by the waist and shove me into the backseat. Kasien slams the door shut and spins around to the driver’s side.
I finally exhale in relief.
He needs to stop doing this. He needs to stop giving me heart attacks.
Adrien throws himself into the passenger seat and we shoot out of the garage, Kasien tapping nervously on the wheel as he speeds through the empty road. The blood on my skin is almost dry now, the torn dress glued to me and my insides burning.
We’re okay. We made it.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to break the nervous silence.
“We need to get Natalya,” Adrien mutters.
“No,” Kasien snaps without looking at him. “She thinks we’re dead. And it stays like that.”
“Fuck that. I’m getting her.” Adrien spits more blood and his voice cracks with anger and something else.
“We’re target number one, Adrien.” Kasien reins himself in and continues, calmer. “Staying dead to her is safer.”
Adrien drops his head against the headrest, gripping his hair, shaking, as Kasien adds with a whisper, “I’m sorry.”
I tear a strip of my dress, lean forward between the seats, and try to wipe the blood pouring from Adrien’s lip. The cut is deep and it won’t stop bleeding. His eyes stay shut, his face smeared with crimson—I can’t read a damn thing on him.
“Yeah. I might actually be dead soon anyway,” he mutters.
What?
I slowly drag my eyes down on his body, the blood is everywhere, but I thought it’s not his. I start panicking, nervously opening his shirt, ripping it open, running my fingers over his skin, looking for something I wish is not there.
Fuck.
