Arson:
Yes
N:
Yes
King:
30 second countdown then go
Thirty… Twenty… Ten… Five…four, three, two, one.
Go.
36
JAY
I rose to my feet, still hidden by the hedge, and pocketed my phone, switching it for my knife.
Then I ran for the path.
A roar of alarm went up from my left, words that I didn’t understand, but they sounded like Russian. Did this mean we were dealing with the Volkovs?
Ryker had heard it too, visibly jerking back, before he carried on running. Fuck, I couldn’t let them find out it was him behind the mask, not with the Thorpes’ entanglement with the Volkovs. I had to get to them first.
I ran harder, my heart pounding as I reached the clearing, skidding across the grass to launch myself at the closest figure as they were swinging their leg over their bike. Getting them in a chokehold, I yanked them backwards, sending us both crashing to the ground with a jarring impact that vibrated through my spine. A roar came from the person I’d attacked, their body struggling against mine, and as I grappled with them, it instantly became clear that not only was this a man, but he was definitely cursing me in Russian.
He managed to tear out of my hold, staggering upright, but I swung my legs out, hooking my feet around his ankles and sending him back to the ground with a punched-out groan. As I rolled, I took in the sight of Dan sending one of the bikes flying towards the churning river, where it was instantly swallowed up, swept away by the fast-moving currents.
I couldn’t see Ryker, but I could hear shouts and grunts behind me. There was no time to focus on anything else, though, because the guy I was grappling with was going for his belt?—
He had a fuckinggun.
I reacted on instinct, flicking out my knife and driving it straight into the closest part of him I could reach—his right forearm. I held on as he thrashed against me, forgetting all about the gun as he fought to free the knife from his flesh. The handle was growing slippery with his blood, but I gripped it as tightly as I could while I shouted at the top of my lungs.
“Get his gun!”
Ryker appeared in my vision, throwing himself across the man’s legs and going for the gun.
The next few minutes were a blur. Ryker managed to wrestle the gun from the guy, but as soon as he gripped it, he was tackled from behind. He went down, the gun flying across the grass, and then there was a mad scramble as we all went for it. Ryker staggered to his feet, booting the gun as hard as he could, sending it straight into the river where it was instantly swept away. The guy who’d tackled him gave a roar of outrage, swinging his fists at Ry, who ducked and retaliated with a series of jabs.
The man I’d stabbed managed to mount one of the bikes and rode it straight at me. I had to dive out of the way, andhe followed me, the bike skidding on the grass. Blood was still coming from his wound, but he didn’t seem to notice, fuelled by rage as he came at me again.
“Watch out!”
Ryker’s warning came too late. Someone slammed into me from behind, sending me to the wet ground, their body a heavy weight on top of mine. My mask slammed up against my face, wet grass filling the eye and mouth holes, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe.
The weight disappeared, and I rolled over, gasping for air, and pushed up onto my knees. Ryker thundered past me, in hot pursuit of two of the three guys. They were down to two bikes, thanks to Dan’s efforts, but two of them were sharing a bike, tearing through the churned-up mud while the third mounted his own bike.
Then I caught sight of the prone figure beneath the tree, face down, red pooling on the dirt beneath them. My blood went cold. “Dan!”
Ryker skidded to a stop, whirling around and running for the tree. He dropped to his knees next to Dan’s still body, tearing the mask from his face and throwing it to the ground. His usually impassive expression was replaced with sheer terror, and the chill in my veins turned to ice. I hadneverseen that look on his face before.
“Get. Help. Car. First aid.” His voice cracked as he shouted instructions at me, and I nodded, launching myself to my feet. Pumping my legs, I ran harder and faster than I’d ever run in my life, hitting the towpath and closing the distance between myself and the final biker. Dan or Ryker must have done something to it, because it was stuttering along, the biker shouting curses at it as he revved it uselessly.
Images of my best friend’s body assaulted my brain as Itore after the bike. He needed to fucking pay for what he’d done. But he was too far away to catch?—
