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He's not getting one more second.

So I shove the helmet onto his head myself, fingers rough under his jaw as I lock the strap, then catch him around the waist and drag him up onto the back seat before he can plant his feet and stop me.

He makes a furious sound, half curse, half protest, twisting hard enough that I think he might throw us both sideways into the pavement.

"Stop fighting me."

"Then stop manhandling me like I'm⁠—"

A footstep cracks sharp behind us.

Whoever's out there is too fucking close.

I swing back on and don't let him finish. I pin him in tight behind me by sheer lack of space as the grav-field surges under the frame. The engine rises from a low hum into a hard, hungry whine, loud enough to cut through the muffled bass from the clubs and the rush of blood in my ears.

"Hold on," I snap.

"Go to hell⁠—"

The first man lunges out of the alley just as I punch the throttle.

Rowan's eyes go wide. "Good⁠—"

"Told you. We need to get the fuck outta here."

The bike launches forward hard enough to nearly throw Rowan off the back. His hands catch at my coat on instinct even while he's still swearing at me. Then the street drops away behind us in wet light and engine roar as I tear us out of the lane before the trap can close completely.

12

ROWAN

"Hold the fuck on," Ciaran bites out, reaching back to catch my wrist and drag my arm tight around him. "Around me."

The city drops and my stomach lurches with it, the ground falling away beneath us for half a second before the grav-field kicks in with a sharp electric hum and slams us forward again so hard it rips the breath from my lungs.

Wind tears past my face, cold and fast enough to sting, dragging a startled sound out of me.

We're flying.

"Good—"

The rest of it gets ripped out of my mouth as he cuts hard left, too fast, too tight, the bike tilting beneath us in a way that feels impossible, like we should be skidding, crashing⁠—

Instead, the city blurs around us in streaks of light and wet pavement, and for one insane second all I can think is that I've never moved this fast in my life.

I can't believe he was there, like he knew where to find me, like none of this was chance.

The thought crawls under my skin, because there's a difference between finding someone and already knowing where they'll be.

Wet light streaks past in broken lines, neon smearing across my vision as he cuts straight through an intersection that definitely wasn't ours to cross. Engines whine too close, and horns blare behind us.

"Are you insane?" I choke out.

He doesn't answer. Just pushes the throttle harder.

My stomach flips, and it's not just from the speed. I swallow hard and press closer, feeling the solid line of him beneath the leather, the heat of his body bleeding through it, every shift of his weight dragging mine with it, his effortless control somehow making everything worse.

Another turn throws us sideways before the stabilizers catch. The bike snaps back into line with a violent jolt that sends a fresh rush of adrenaline straight through me. My breath breaks against his shoulder as the city blurs into light and motion and noise around us.