Page 38 of Damsel in Disguise

I like being here. But more than that, I like being here only when he is here. And currently, he’s not.

I can’t fuck this up. If he decides he doesn’t need my help anymore, then there will be no official justification, no paper trail, nothing I can argue against.

It’s not formal. It’s not sanctioned. It exists in the negative space between policy and attention.

A dirty little secret. And that’s what unsettles me. Why me?

There are dozens of students more qualified, more compliant, more appropriate for this role if he wanted it official.

But he didn’t choose official. He chose this. He chose me.

By the time I step outside, dusk has swallowed the campus whole, leaving the buildings glowing in sterile bands of fluorescent light.

Most of the students are gone by now, a few lingering in the cafeteria. Only the cleaners remain, gliding through hallways, running squeaking carts with the faint chemical tang of disinfectant hanging in the air.

I adjust my backpack higher on my shoulders and walk alone toward the exit. I haven’t really made any friends here. Plus, at this hour, none of my group mates should be around to say hi.

The further I descend the stairwell toward the main exit, the more my body slackens. The earlier tension drained out of me, leaving behind a dull fatigue pressing against my ribs.

For a brief moment, I don’t even feel like riding my bike and consider renting a car back to my apartment.

A bike suddenly whooshes past me the moment I step outside the gigantic gates. The rush of wind whips my legs and pulls me out of the sluggish haze.

The sharp growl of its engine cuts through the quiet evening, and just like that, something inside me clicks back into place.

My feet pivot almost automatically, turning me around toward the parking lot.

The leather biker suit is still folded in the closet along with the boots, the gloves, the balaclava, and whatnot. That’s the version of myself that belongs to the road after dark—anonymous, deliberate, untraceable.

Instead, I’m still dressed as I was on campus—mini skirt, cropped top, chunky sneakers, hair loose and soft around my shoulders. It’s too ordinary to be noticeable, but I couldn’t care less about it.

I shrug it off, angling across the asphalt toward my bike. My hands move on instinct, pulling on my helmet and putting the bike into gear as my eyes track the empty street.

By now, it’s too late to follow him.

He’s already gone home. Or to whatever devil’s cave he retreats to when he doesn’t want to be seen.

I take the vacant road he takes anyway, just for a rush of thrill. That should have been my first warning.

It’s not safe for a biker girl to roam unknown, vacant streets, is what they say. But I’m not just any girl. At least, that’s what I like to tell myself.

There are no taillights ahead. No oncoming glare. Just highway unspooling into darkness, streetlights blinking past.

Then too suddenly, light fractures the distance—a single headlamp flares in the side-view mirror.

My brows draw together. It wasn’t there a moment ago.

The headlight blooms suddenly in my side-view mirror, too close, too abrupt—like the car materialized out of the dark.

I try to side-glance, angling my head just enough to catch the outline, but the glare eats everything. I can’t see the body of the vehicle, just the harsh white circle burning into my vision.

It takes me a second too long to realize one thing with certainty. It isn’t Alistair’s. Because it’s another bike.

The absence of streetlamps only worsens it. The road is swallowed in darkness, and whatever’s behind me is pitch black, blending seamlessly into the night. No chrome glint. No reflected edges. Just that single, invasive light hovering where it shouldn’t be.

Something settles uneasily in my chest.

I scan the road ahead. Empty. I check behind again, then the periphery—nothing. No other vehicles. No movement beyond the steady hum of my engine and the whisper of wind sliding past my legs. I can’t even hear the sound of the bike behind me. No engine note. No tire hiss. Just silence and that headlight pacing me.