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“Still working on the second wing—ah! Done it. Need to get the third one,” she says. There’s less fear in her voice, because her brain has taken over. She’s working hard to solve the problem.

“Keep trying. Knowing exactly where you are would help because our bikes are noisy. He’ll hear them approaching.”

A few minutes pass before another message appears.

Wren: Head toward Miller’s Farm and Feed.

The place that reported the theft of the insecticide. It can’t be a coincidence.

Can it? I think about the property. They had their store. But out back, across the field, I swear they had some silos, and perhaps a couple of work sheds.

Ridge signals that we’re gonna take a fast right.

“We got a location, Della,” I say. “We’re headed right to you.”

“I got the third nut off,” she says. “Oh my God, the whole indicator unit just came out.” I hear her suck in air. “Oh my God, Sunny. I can see out.”

“Good. Describe everything.”

“There’s nothing,” she says, the level of desperation in her voice grabbing me in a chokehold. “Just shrubs and a road that’s part asphalt and⁠—”

The call ends.

Her phone died.

And I’m ready to tear the whole fucking world apart to find her.

35

DELLA

“Sunny? Hello?” I pull the phone away from my ear and see that the screen is now blank and the phone has died. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Dirt billows behind Evan’s car as we shift from asphalt to side road to dirt road. I can’t get my bearings, but they’re no use to Sunny, now, seeing I can’t tell him anything anyway.

All I can do is trust that Sunny will find me. I close my eyes and visualize him and Knox and Vandal and Ridge and Lock and North and Havoc and Reaper and everyone else I've met riding in my direction. It might not sound like a lot, but manifestation is all I've got, right now.

They're going to find me. They have to find me. I've only just started the rest of my life, and it can't end now.

At some point, Evan is going to have to stop this car. He's going to have to walk around to the trunk and he's going to have to open it. He's bigger than I am, but he's not strong like Sunny. There's a slim chance I'll be able to overpower him, push him away, and run, and I need to be ready for that eventuality.

The car finally comes to a stop, and then, the car shakes as a door is slammed. I assume Evan is alone, but how can I be sure that nobody else got into the vehicle with him. There’s a saying that the obvious answer is usually the right one, so my guess is I’m in the trunk for one of two reasons. Evan didn’t want anyone to see me as he pulled off university property. Or there was no one else with him in the vehicle to make sure I stayed subdued.

I send a final prayer it’s the latter as I hear the latch click and daylight floods the trunk of the car. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust, but when they do, and thoughts of fighting back bubble through my fear, Evan is standing holding a gun.

“Should have known you’d find a way out of the rope but didn’t have time to get this out of the glove box.” He tosses a white, pre-looped cable tie. “Put your hands into that and tighten it with your teeth.”

I look around, into the distance, and try to listen. But there are no motorcycle engines to be heard. No sign of anyone coming to save me.

My heart drops, a funny tripping and lurching sensation. As if it’s decided there is no longer any value in racing because this is the end. So, I do as he says, solely so I can buy Sunny some time.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask Evan, wriggling my hands into the cable tie, and then, tightening it like he asked. I deliberately leave it a little loose, but as if sensing my plan, he leans forward and yanks it.

I cry out at the pain as the plastic digs into my skin. “Stop.”

“I’m sorry, Della,” he manages before he grabs my arm and clumsily drags me out of the trunk. My leg gets stuck and I fall, face-first into the dirt. I turn my head to the side just in time to avoid breaking my nose. But it doesn’t make the impact reverb through my entire body any less.

He places the gun down in the trunk, scoops beneath my armpits, and lifts me so I’m standing. I wipe the dust from the side of my face and find it wet. When I pull my hand away, there is blood on it.