Page 76 of Silent Stalker

The bell chimes again as we burst into the cold night air. Snow falls in fat flakes, coating the parking lot in white. Silas pushes me toward the passenger side while fishing the keys from his pocket.

"Get in," he commands, already sliding behind the wheel.

I barely have my door closed before the engine roars to life. Gravel sprays as we peel out of the lot, the diner's neon glow fading behind us.

"He recognized us," I say, my voice shaking. "He's probably calling the police right now."

"Let him." Silas's hands are steady on the wheel as he quickly turns onto the highway. "We'll be long gone by the time they mobilize."

I obsessively check the rearview mirror, but no headlights follow us. The snow falls harder now, creating a white tunnel in our headlights. The darkness beyond seems to swallow everything else.

"How far to the airstrip?" I ask, trying to focus on logistics instead of panic.

"Twenty minutes." Silas accelerates. "The plane's fueled and ready."

His confidence settles my nerves somewhat. I reach across the console and place my hand on his thigh. He covers it with his own, squeezing gently.

The highway stretches empty before us, our headlights cutting through the falling snow. Each mile brings us closer to escape, freedom, and a new life where we can be ourselves without hiding.

34

SILAS

Igrip the steering wheel tighter as we pull onto the private airstrip, the snow crunching beneath the tires. Clara's fingers drum against her thigh. It’s a nervous habit I've noticed over our time together. The police radio chatter buzzes in my hidden earpiece.

"All units converge on Miller's airstrip. Suspects Knight and Hart were spotted heading north on Route 9."

Fuck. I glance at Clara, her green eyes wide as she stares at the small private plane waiting on the runway. She has no idea they're coming straight for us.

"We need to move fast." I park beside the hangar and kill the engine. "The weather's getting worse."

"Are you sure about this?" Clara's voice wavers. "Once we're in the air..."

"No turning back." I reach over and cup her chin. "That's the point."

The radio crackles again. "ETA fifteen minutes to airstrip. All units maintain radio silence on approach."

My pulse quickens, but I keep my expression neutral. Years of practice make it easy to hide the surge of adrenaline. I grabour bags from the trunk while scanning the tree line. There are no flashing lights yet.

"The pilot's waiting." I guide Clara toward the plane with my hand on her lower back. "Everything's taken care of."

She hesitates at the stairs. "Silas, I?—"

"Trust me." I press my lips to her neck, right over the marks I left earlier.

A shiver runs through her, and she nods and climbs into the cabin. I follow, stowing our bags as the pilot begins pre-flight checks. It will be ten minutes—maybe less—before they arrive.

The engines roar to life, drowning out the police chatter in my ear. Clara buckles in beside me, her hand finding mine. I squeeze back, already plotting our next moves. We just need to get airborne before they reach us.

Red and blue lights flash through the window against the falling snow. Clara's curse cuts through the engine noise. James's cruiser skids to a stop fifty yards from our plane, blocking the runway.

"Stay here." I unbuckle my seatbelt, but Clara grabs my arm.

"What are you doing?" Her fingers dig into my sleeve.

"Taking care of it." I pull my gun from its holster, checking the magazine. "Keep the engines running," I tell the pilot.

James steps out of his car, weapon drawn. The snow whips around him as he advances. Fucking hero complex. Always had to play the white knight, even when Clara first mentioned him.

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