Page 14 of Scorch

But something’s off kilter as if there’s a movie playing, but the reel is skipping, each second that passes a hair disjointed. The silence between us crackles with unspoken tension, the air thick with my repressed fears and whatever the hell is brewing with my fiancé.

“What did your sister say?” he asks as he unhurriedly pulls into the street. The car engine purrs, and it’s almost reassuring.

Everything’s fine.

There’s nothing to worry about.

Still, my hands itch to strike the lighter in my bag. I can already hear the snitch of flame and see the flicker of measured fire. I swallow hard and look out the window.

I’m an adult now. I’m not the rebellious teen looking for something to control.

“Not much… just to come home.”

“So she told you nothing.”

“No,” I tell him. “I don’t know at all. It’s a little odd; ever since Vera got married, she’s been mysterious about things. She told me that I needed to talk with her in person.” I don’t tell him she thinks my phone’s unsafe.

“Of course she doesn’t. She fucking married a Romanov.”

I look at him sharply. I didn’t even know he knew a thing about her. Is this going to be an issue?

I trust Timur, but…

I’m looking down at my phone, trying to catch up on messages, when I see that my last messages to Vera never sent. Strange.

“Put it away, Lydia,” he says cooly. “You know how I feel about that when we’re together.” His fingers drum impatiently on the steering wheel.

“I know, but she’s worried.” I’m distracted, trying to figure out if my cell phone service is working and don’t notice the rising tone of his voice.

“She has no reason to be worried.” He exhales. “I’m losing my patience. Put the damn thing away.”

“I need to?—”

The next thing I know, he snatches my phone from my hand, rolls down the window, and tosses it into oncoming traffic.

“Timur!”

His lips are set into a thin line as we drive even faster.

“How could you do that? That was my cell phone. Oh my God!” I clutch at his arm, but he shoves me off of him so hard I bang into the passenger door.

I open my mouth to protest further when I realize we’re driving in the wrong direction. Ice pulses through my veins, my cell phone forgotten.

I draw in a deep breath. I have to stay calm. I can’t lose it.

“Timur. Where are we going? I thought we were heading home.” This is not the right direction.

“We are,” he says, a hardness to his voice.

An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. I glance around, the dark waters of the river glinting under the bridge lights as we speed across.

Before I can process the information or what the hell he’s talking about, the car jolts to a stop. My heart leaps into my throat as I see a car in the rearview mirror gaining on us.

You’re in danger.

Without missing a beat, Timur reaches under his seat and pulls out a handgun, his expression cold and determined.

“What are you doing?” I gasp, my voice trembling. “What the hell is going on? Oh my God. You know what she’s talking about!”

---