Page 130 of The Grief We Hold

If there was even a shred of doubt that this woman was the one for me, her words just blew them away. How can I second-guess a woman who would stand and fight by my side?

“Got extra weapons hidden on the bike, but we’ll have to be really fucking fast to get them.”

“Talk me through it.”

A third bullet hits the bike, and I’m terrified they’re going to hit a fuel line and set the damn thing on fire.

“In the saddlebag is a knife. Beneath your seat, a pistol. Grab both when we stop, but for now, hold on tight. It’s going to be a sharp turn at the last minute. Three, two, one…”

The trail is so rough, the bike almost skids as it bounces around. It fights me every step of the way. But I see the buildings ahead. There are five or six of them. A large barn, once painted red and white, now looks like it’s painted in gray scale. The cattle shed is missing a portion of the roof after one of the storms hit it last year. And above the entrance to the stable there is a painted rainbow.

Do I now believe in signs from loved ones who have passed?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

Thanks, Hallie.

In my other mirror, I see the maneuver bought us some time. Without the mobility of the bike, the truck is unable to make the sharp corner. It’ll have to turn up the road and come back for us.

“We lost them for a minute,” I say to Raven. “That’s all we’ve got, but it’s enough if we move.”

“I’m ready,” Raven says.

A complex mix of anticipation and adrenaline fuels my heart rate as I turn off the lights of the bike, plunging us into darkness.

“When I stop, grab the knife and pistol and run to the stable. See the building with the rainbow over the door?”

“I see it,” she says.

“Keep your helmet on. Just get to cover.”

I pull the bike to a halt and kill the engine. Raven jumps off first, but she stumbles, unused to the kind of riding we just did. She grabs the seat to stabilize herself for a second as I step off the bike and look up the farm road to see the lights of the truck headed towards us.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Grab shit and run.”

She does as I say, while I pull as many other weapons off my bike as I can. The oil dipstick shortened and turned into ashiv. The repair kit attached to the side of the bike that contains ammo and another knife.

Two guns, three knives, one shiv. There’s more, but I can’t waste time finding them. We need to be hidden before those fucking floodlights on the top of that truck find us.

“Run, Raven,” I say, coming up behind her. At first, her steps are short, slow, uncoordinated.

But she finds her feet and speeds up. I jump as I run through the slightly ajar stable door, slapping my palm to the rainbow.

There’s a comfort and reassurance that comes from knowing Hallie and Lottie are looking out for me and Raven.

It’s enough to get my frenetic heart rate under control.

“Think, think,” I mutter as I tug off my helmet, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the barn.

Raven does the same, then stands awkwardly with the sheathed knife in one hand and a small pistol in the other. If we make it through this, I’m gonna teach her how to shoot to kill. I want her as confident and capable of taking a man’s life as I am.

In the light of the half-moon, there isn’t much to see. Stale hay litters the floor, and ropes sit in coils in the corner. There is a small office at the back of the stable, which might be enough if we can somehow barricade ourselves in it.

But if they have any kind of heavy weaponry with them, it will blow straight through the wooden structure.

Light floods the exterior of the buildings, and gravel crunches beneath tires. After the driver kills the engine, and the doors slam as the occupants leave the vehicle, everything goes quiet.

“Rurik Zakharov wants the girl. Her husband’s phone says he was here, so she must know where he is.”

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