Page 40 of Freedom’s Inferno

I leaned low, twisting the throttle until the bike screamed. The asphalt blurred beneath me. I needed space. I needed to get them away from Lana. I dropped a gear and veered onto the wrong side of the road, the bike tilting as I shot past Lana’s car.

Her face flickered in my peripheral vision, eyes wide, lips forming my name, but I didn’t have time to look back.

The truck swerved hard, tires shrieking, then straightened out. They flew past her too, grill glinting in the morning sun.

Good.

The road curved tight around a hill, trees closing in.

The truck’s engine growled behind me, eating distance.

They’re enjoying this.

I pushed faster, but my pulse kept pace. Every instinct screamed that I wasn’t going to outrun them.

The truck’s horn blared. Metal thundered against asphalt. They clipped too close.

I swerved to the shoulder, gravel spitting out from under my tires. My bike wobbled, corrected, and wobbled again.

The truck followed, crowding me toward the ditch.

“Come on, come on‒” I hissed through my teeth, trying to find control. Then the back wheel caught loose gravel, and I knew I’d lost it.

The world tilted sideways. I hit the grass in a blur of sound and light, my shoulder taking the first punch of impact. The bike skidded, metal grinding and spitting sparks before it collapsed a few feet away.

The truck roared past, so close the air shifted with its wake. The passenger leaned out the window, waving a pistol with careless menace. He wasn’t aiming to shoot, but to mock me.

I lay there in the grass, chest heaving, watching their taillights vanish around the bend.

They weren’t trying to kill me; they were playing a game.

Fury sparked with the realization. I rolled onto my back, the sky above me fractured by branches, gold leaves spiraling down through the exhaust haze.

Somewhere behind me, the distant purr of Lana’s Lexus grew louder.

Chapter 17

Lana

The drive was beautiful. Autumn was a necessary reminder of the serenity that could come from transition. Gold leaves flickering in the morning light made the world look soft enough to forget what waited beyond it. The hum of the engine, my music playing low, it all felt strangely peaceful.

Every few miles, I’d glance at the side mirror and catch sight of Charlie’s bike behind me, sleek and black against the sea of color.

He kept his distance, always hovering close enough that I could feel the weight of his presence. I wondered if that was actually his way of protecting me, or if he was controlling me. Maybe both.

I was starting to relax when the sound hit me: a deep, throaty rev that cut through the still air. It startled me enough that I jerked the wheel.

In the next second, Charlie came whipping past on the wrong side of the road, a blur of motion and metal.

My heart lurched into my throat. “What the hell‒”

Before I could finish, the growl of another engine roared up behind me, and a big, black truck closed the distance fast. It shot past me so close the side mirror rattled, the gust of air shoving the Lexus toward the shoulder. Through the windshield, I caught the flash of the driver’s face, a large head, beady black eyes, and a smile so wicked it didn’t belong to anyone sane. Beside him sat the bearded man, his face stone. Then, I understood.

“Fuck!”

I slammed my foot on the gas, the engine whining in protest.

The truck was already ahead, barreling down the road after Charlie. His bike was weaving, the two of them locked in a terrible dance.