Page 87 of The Devil You Don't Know

The car slowed down as it approached Liam. Logan moved behind me, the click of the firearm vibrating in my ear.

We watched, tucked right near the road, the small gazebo wall hiding us from view.

The man got out of his car and made his way over to Liam, flustered at the interruption. Logan and I moved swiftly toward the vehicle, our footsteps light and quick.

I moved to the driver’s side, sliding in. My knife was wrapped tightly in my arms. Logan moved to the side of the car, waiting just in case.

“I don’t really know what happened, man,” Liam said.

“Well, did you have to take up the whole road?” the man complained.

My fingers, guided by muscle memory and a heart pounding anticipation, explored the web of wires within the dashboard. I struggled to find my target: take out the security system and start the car. My tools clicked softly in the darkness as I weaved my way through the motions. Tension was thick in the air as I worked as fast as I could under Logan’s steady stare.

“Care to help me move it? Because it’s very unmovable right now,” Liam added, his tone thick with venom.

Whatever cheap tracking system the man had in the car came apart easily. Logan tossed me the keys with a grin. Hotwiring wasn’t needed as the idiot, trusting his cash and status would keep him safe, left the car running and the key in the cupholder.

I nodded to Logan, who opened the passenger door slowly. He slid into the seat, and I threw the car in reverse.

That same moment I spun us around, Liam shoved the man and got into his own car, driving away. We didn’t need to worry about the expensive car too much—the plate was fake, courtesy of Logan.

As we rushed down the road, Logan gave random directions to turn left and right to try and mess with the cameras they would use to track and route us on later. We continued making our way toward the rendezvous point.

We twisted down the cliff side, following the road. Logan rolled his window down, letting out a holler and patting the top of the car.

“We did it,” he said, throwing his gun into the glove box. “Fuck, man. I didn’t think that was gonna work.”

“What do you mean?” I said, turning to him, bewildered. “You came up with the plan!”

Logan shrugged. “Saw it online. Some video.”

“Are you kidding, man?” I yelled. Normally, his chaotic energy and approach to life didn’t bother me. But the first thought I had was Audry’s face finding out I was dead.

Within seconds, I witnessed my death in six different ways: getting shot, getting caught, driving this car off the cliff, getting hit by the car, getting stabbed, and finally getting picked up by Samuel. Each one carved into my mind in detail—the blood and the pain. And each one ended with the same thing: Audry finding out I was dead.

My face burned as the images played through my mind. She wouldn’t find out nicely—oh no, through a single line obituary, through tracking down Carson, or possibly dying at the hands of Samuel for defending herself.

I glanced at Logan, frustrated at his disregard for my life—for Audry’s life.

“What the fuck, man?” I said again.

Logan stared at me, confused. We butted heads—that wasn’t unusual—but the frustration that grew inside me was something unmatched to even our worst brawls.

I pulled the car over, throwing it in park. The car complained below me, groaning at the sudden stop. Logan snapped forward, glaring at me.

“People have lives, you know?”

“Sure, I know. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“To hell it is!” I yelled, banging on the steering wheel. “If something happened, what would Audry do?”

Logan stared at me, mouth falling open. “What wouldAudrydo?” he asked pointedly.

I grunted out my frustration, hitting the steering wheel again.

“You just met her, what does it matter what she would do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because our psycho liege is out for her blood at any minute,” I said, reminding him of the dangers of Samuel.

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