Page 75 of Freedom’s Inferno

He gave a humorless half-laugh. “Define okay.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. He looked like someone who had been hollowed out, and it pulled at my insides.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I was a fucking idiot.

“It’s fine,” he said, voice flat. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’ll be… fine.”

The last word landed like a lie we were both too tired to challenge.

Outside, the sky hung low and colorless, the kind of gray that muted everything it touched. The rhythmic motion of the wipers swept away the faint drizzle beginning to collect on the windshield, oddly hypnotic.

Then something in the rearview mirror caught my eye. A dark shape several car lengths back. The same dented front grill, the same too-dark windows.

“Charlie,” I said, “Behind us. Don’t look too fast.”

He looked anyway. Just a flick of his eyes toward the mirror, and the shift rippled through him. His shoulders straightened, his jaw locked, and his hand tightened on the wheel until the tendons stood out.

“That’s the same goddamn truck,” he growled.

Adrenaline hit like an electric pulse. “You’re sure?”

“They almost killed me running my bike off the road, I’m fucking sure.” His hand moved to the gearshift, and the engine gave a low growl, as he pressed harder on the gas.

The Lexus surged forward, but the truck stayed close.

“Maybe it’s a coincidence‒” I started, but the words died in my throat when the truck switched lanes to match our speed, closing the distance.

“Yeah,” Charlie muttered. “Hell of a coincidence.”

The hum of the road deepened, tires hissing against the slick pavement. The speedometer crept higher.

Charlie cut onto a side road without signaling, tires skidding over the wet asphalt.

My shoulder hit the door, the jolt sharp enough to sting.

The truck followed, headlights flaring in the mirror.

“Charlie, he’s gaining on us!” My voice came out higher than intended, as I gripped the Jesus handle.

“I see him.” His voice was all gravel and control, but I recognized the mask he wore when everything inside of him was chaos.

We barreled down a narrow two-lane road flanked by trees that blurred into streaks of brown and yellow. The truck stayed glued to our tail, close enough that I could see the spray of water from its tires hitting the rear window.

“Hold on,” Charlie said. He jerked the wheel right, veering onto a smaller connecting road, barely more than a paved path through an industrial strip. The tires screeched, gravel spitting out from under us. The truck followed again.

“Son of a‒”

“Charlie!”

“I’ve got it!”

He accelerated hard, the Lexus fishtailing before regaining traction.

We shot past a row of warehouses, the blur of chain-link fences and faded signage flashing past the windows.

My pulse hammered so fast it felt like I was vibrating. The truck drew closer, its headlights glaring into the cabin, bleaching the dashboard in white light.

“Can you lose him?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.