Page 127 of Chasing Ruin
I hang up, not willing to listen to him. There’s absolutely no part of me that will ever put myself before the woman I love—let alone put club orders before her.
I shake my head and immediately regret it. A pulsing pain shoots up at my temples. But I swallow it down and move, half stumbling, half crawling. Every step feels like I’m seconds away from dropping again.
Joe’s just about to swing his leg over the bike when I grab him and we go down hard.
He snarls, twisting fast—faster than me—but I don’t let go. Not this time. His fist slams into my ribs.
Something cracks. Or maybe it was already broken. I don’t care.
I swing back and miss by an inch.
He lands another hit. My head rings, but I stay.Cling. Like a fucking animal.
“Persistent bastard,” he spits, reaching for his gun.
Big mistake.
I grab his wrist. We struggle.
My strength is failing fast. But rage? Yeah, rage is still there.
I slam his hand into the ground. Once. Twice. The gun slips and I grab it.
I don’t fucking give myself a moment to hesitate. I pull the trigger. The shot echoes.
Joe jerks and promptly goes still.
Silence crashes around me for half a second.
The van is gone.
“Fuck!” I shove his body aside, barely managing to haul myself onto the bike. My hands shake as I grip the handles. Blood drips onto the metal.
My vision blurs again, but it doesn’t fucking matter.
If I can’t stop them, I’ll follow. I’ll hunt. But I am not fuckinglosing her.
The engine roars beneath me and I take off. The wind tears past me. Or maybe I’m tearing through it. I can’t tell anymore. All I know is speed, reckless and unforgiving..
The engine screams as I push it harder than it should ever go. The back road they took is uneven, riddled with dips and cracks. Every bump sends a violent shockwave through my body.
Fuck.
I almost lose control on a sharp turn, vision blurring as black creeps in again. My grip tightens, knuckles slick with blood.
Stay up. Stay conscious.
The van comes into view and undiluted relief hits me followed immediately by dread.
Two motorcycles flank it.
I bare my teeth, pushing the throttle harder. The engine howls as I surge forward, overtaking them before they can react. One of them shouts something, but I don’t slow down. Not until I’m ahead.
I slam the brakes. The bike skids sideways violently across the road, gravel spitting under the tires as I come to a stop a few dozen feet ahead of them.
The van’s headlights flood over me as it comes to a stop.
For a second, I see nothing but white.
