I nod. “Damon is behind us, but Ronan missed the turn. I’ve got this.”
She sucks in a breath and looks over her shoulder at the black SUV behind us.
The only part of this I’m not particularly happy with is that we’re in her hatchback rather than something sturdier. This car is designed for a morning commute, not a high-speed chase down a dirt road, but it’s going to have to do.
I push the car harder, forcing myself to remain composed when the tires slide out on the gravel beneath us.
It’s been a while since I’ve been in a situation like this, and while I would normally find it exhilarating, knowing Chloe is in danger is making it significantly less enjoyable.
Caring about others is exhausting, but now I know what it feels like to be inside her, I can’t see myself ever letting her go.
Chloe has wormed her way into my chest, and even if I could rid myself of her, I’m not sure I would.
The tires hit another piece of loose gravel, and the car slides, tearing a soft cry from the woman beside me, and as badly as I long to reassure her, I don’t.
Not yet.
I never want to lie to her, and if by some chance I can’t get us out of this, I don’t want my last words to her to be a false promise.
Glancing down at the navigation, I take note of how long this particular road is and internally groan.
Fuck.
We have miles to go, and I can’t push the car any harder than I am without crashing.
Damon chooses now to close the distance between us, the bumper of the SUV so close it’s all I can see.
“There’s a gun in the glovebox. Can you grab it for me?” I say as calmly as I can manage.
Her eyes flick up, staring at the side of my face for a second before doing as I’ve asked. “Why is there a gun in my glovebox?”
“I stashed it in there before I climbed into your trunk.”
“You’re certifiable.”
“Perhaps.” I shrug, taking the gun from her and dropping it in my lap.
It wouldn’t be the first time someone has called me crazy, but it’s different coming from her. A term of endearment almost.
Yeah, I’ve lost my fucking mind when it comes to this woman.
Spotting an upcoming turn, I double-check Chloe has her seat belt on and prepare to do something really fucking stupid.
“Hold on for me, Siren,” I say through clenched teeth, fists tightening around the steering wheel.
The turn comes, and it’s not until we’re almost past it that I tear the wheel to the side at the same time the only thing I couldn’t account for happens.
Loose gravel.
The tires slide out from under us, and Chloe’s scream fills the car as we spin out of control.
I barely manage to hold onto the wheel, but the gun flies off my lap before I can grab it, making me regret leaving my piece in one of her bags when I packed us up this morning.
It seemed senseless to have both guns close by, especially because I don’t know how my girl feels about them. Now I see the error in my ways.
The only time her comfort isn’t the priority is when it comes to keeping her safe, and that’s not a mistake I’ll make twice.
When the car finally comes to a stop, we’re in a ditch on the side of the road, and the engine is dead, but somehow that’s not our biggest problem.
