Page 74 of Raise Hell

The real Olivia would never hop on a Ducati, especially a stolen one.

But I don’t have to be her right now.

Only the moon lights my way as I reach the long winding road that leads up to campus. The road is steep and treacherous at the best of times, but even more so in the dark. I’m skilled enough on a bike that I don’t worry too much about it, even as I slow down to a crawl for the first turn.

Headlights glow in my rearview mirrors. I drift to the edge of the lane so whoever it is can pass me, but they don’t. Instead, the car continues to speed up but doesn’t pass me.

Their front bumper barely touches my rear wheel.

They’re trying to run me off the road.

I gun the engine. The Ducati is responsive as it roars up the hill, eating up pavement in a blur. When I risk a glance behind me, I glimpse the shiny black paint and tinted windows of some kind of sports car.

For a second, I consider the thick lines of trees on either side of the narrow road. A car wouldn’t be able to make it through the thickly packed trees, but a motorcycle probably could. Except the Ducati isn’t exactly designed to go off-road. The last thing I need is to end up stranded in the woods with whoever is in that car looking for me.

It has to be a St. Bart’s student following me. This is a private road that doesn’t lead anywhere but the school. No one else has a reason to be up here.

There is only one more curve before we reach the school. Through the trees, metal glints from the wrought-iron fencing.

I hear the roar of an engine moments before the car makes impact. The Ducati tips too sharply to recover, and I hit the ground hard enough that the impact rockets through my body. Screeching metal as the Ducati’s paint job gets royally fucked assaults my ears. Only my leather jacket protects me from devastating road rash as I skid along the pavement, but it still hurts like a blaze of fire on my skin.

The bike ends up trapped on top of me.

I’ll be able to work myself out from under it eventually, but not quickly enough to get away. A car door slams shut, just before I hear the crunch of gravel as someone walks up behind me.

I crane to look, but I can’t bend my neck far enough in the right direction to see him coming. Whoever it is takes his time circling around me.

My gaze traces up from a pair of shiny boots, past jean-encased legs and a black turtleneck to the now familiar skull mask covering his face. My gaze locks on the dark eyes filled with hate staring me down, familiar but still impossible to place. From this distance, I can’t even make out the color.

All I see is hate.

A gloved hand moves into my field of vision, holding a gun aimed directly at my chest.

I’m going to die.

My heart stops and my limbs freeze. I can’t outrun a bullet, even if I had enough mental acuity left to try. This has to be what a deer caught in headlights feels in the moment before the car crashes into it.

An intense desire to flee combined with paralyzing fear.

He pulls the trigger.

My body reacts like I’ve been shot, the burst of adrenaline so painful I’m convinced a bullet went straight through my heart. A few more seconds pass and I realize I’m still breathing without pain. I squeeze open my eyes and look down at my shirt.

No blood. No wound.

He used a blank.

Before I can enjoy the fact I’m still alive, a synthesized voice speaks harshly to me.

“This is your last warning.”

The masked figure stalks away before I can think of a response. Gravel flies off the pavement, pinging off the metal side of the Ducati as he drives away and leaves me alone.

He could have killed me.

For the first time, reality really hits home about what I’m risking here.

I thought that nothing worse could happen to me than already happened to Olivia, but I was wrong.

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