Page 123 of Cold Bastard
Eros’ voice cut through my panic. Rough. Urgent.
“Alex, you need to move. Now.”
I crawled toward him, every movement sending fresh waves of agony through my broken body. My hands were slick with blood. Mine, Michael’s, Eros’, I couldn’t tell anymore.
“Keys,” Eros rasped. “In my cut. Inside pocket.”
I reached into his leather vest with trembling fingers, found the keys, and pulled them free.
“There’s a knife,” he continued. “Back pocket. Cut me loose.”
I found the knife and sawed through the zip ties binding his wrists. The moment he was free, Eros grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly strong despite his injuries. “Listen to me,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. “You need to go. Right now. I don’t know who’s coming, but I can hear bikes. If they find you here, with me.” He gestured toward Michael’s body. “Whoever it is will kill you.”
“But.”
“No buts, baby.” He pressed his bike keys into my palm. “Just go, Alex. Black Harley. Parked out back. Take it and go. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”
In the distance, I heard it. The rumble of motorcycles. Multiple engines. Getting closer. For a split second, I hesitated. Part of me wanted to stay. Didn’t want to leave Eros.
“Go,” Eros firmly ordered, gently pushing me away. “Before it’s too late.”
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Then I ran. My body screamed in protest. My ribs felt like they were grinding against each other. Blood dripped from my nose, my mouth, my split lip. But I didn’t stop. I burst through the back door of the storage facility and into the parking lot. And just as Eros said, a black Harley gleamed in the afternoon sun.
I threw my leg over the seat, jammed the key into the ignition, and kicked the engine to life.
The rumble of bikes was louder now. Closer. I could see them in the distance, a line of leather and chrome heading straight for the facility.
Go. Now.
I twisted the throttle and shot out of the parking lot, the bike roaring beneath me, the wind tearing at my hair and clothes.
I didn’t look back. Didn’t let myself think about what I was leaving behind. Didn’t let myself wonder what would happen to Eros. I just rode. Away from the blood and the violence and the man I had just killed. Away from everything. And as the storage facility disappeared in my rearview mirror, I realized something.
I wasn’t running anymore.
I was choosing.
Choosing survival. Choosing freedom. Choosing myself.
Even if it meant I would always be alone.
Even if it meant I could never stop moving.
Even if it meant I killed a man and would carry that weight for the rest of my life.
I was choosing me, and that had to be enough.
Chapter Forty
Eros
Lying on the ground, I tried not to move as I heard the bikes pull into the parking lot. The rumble was unmistakable.
Multiple engines. Coming for me.
I held the knife Alex had used to cut me loose, my fingers wrapped tight around the handle. Blood soaked through my shirt, warm and wet, spreading across my stomach where my stitches had ripped open. Again. The pain was a dull roar now, just background noise to the sharper agony of knowing my time was up. I only prayed that when Indigo heard of my death, Firestride and Ravage were strong enough to stop him from going off half-cocked.
I knew Indigo would lose his shit. I knew him. Knew the rage that lived in his chest, the fury that had kept him breathing despite everything he had been through. He wanted vengeance. He wanted blood, and he would get himself killed trying to avenge me.
