Page 109 of Cruel Lies

One thing was certain: now wasnotthe time to have a slow driver behind the wheel.

"Ro—gimme the keys!"

He tossed them to me wordlessly and I slid behind the wheel, turning the engine over as Angel dove through the center gap and climbed into the backseat, Rowan hot on his heels. Their door slammed closed just as I spun tires in the grass and booked it out of the damn driveway, running a few of Father’s men down in the chaos.

Tires chirped as I went from cobblestone to concrete, narrowly missing an oncoming car and two motorcyclists who zipped by, flipping me the bird.

I didn’t need to ask what direction to go. I’d stalked her for so long these last few weeks that it was second nature.

It was as normal as breathing for me.

Hold on, Harpie girl, we’re coming.

I was two blocks away from her apartment building when Rowan’s phone rang. He pulled it out and swore, fumbling it as he answered with a shaking voice.

"Harper?"

She didn’t answer, but it was definitely her—and from the sound of it, she was running. I could hear the familiar slap of rubber on pavement as she raced down the street, from what—orwho—I didn’t know.

"Harper!"

Answer him, dammit, Harpie girl,I pleaded in my mind, hoping she could hear my thoughts, praying for a word, a sound, anything.

Nothing came through the receiver save for her labored breathing, short gasps, and heavy panting. She was running forher life, and all we could do was listen and panic and edge closer to a breakdown with every second that ticked by.

I heard the revving of a high-performance engine and the squealing of tires and pressed my foot heavier on the pedal. If I could just get to her in time, if we could save her, maybe she’d forgive us. Maybe she’d come back?—

"Listen, bitch, if you just stop now, we’ll make it fast and painless. A bullet between the eyes, smooth and instant."

Rowan and Angel were glued to the phone, which was now sitting on the center console beneath my elbow. I met Ro’s eyes in the rearview, and Angel’s stare was a mile and a half deep and void of any emotion.

Scary on a typical day. Now, it was downright terrifying.

We knew that voice. It featured in some of my least favorite Guild memories.

Clyde. Half of a duo with no morals, no code, and no desire to follow the rules of the voluntary Guild they’d joined.

As if I’d conjured her by thinking of her, Bonnie’s shrill voice echoed out now. Still, Harper said nothing, and I was beginning to wonder if she just . . . couldn’t. Or if she didn’t realize we’d gotten through.

Hold on, Harpie girl, we’re coming.

"But Clyde, you said we could have fun?—"

Clyde cut the whore off and snapped at her.

"Bitch, I told you, let me do the talking. I’m not really gonna make it easy on her. I just want her to make it easy onus."

Infighting was what I wanted to hear. If they were fighting each other, they wouldn’t have time to fight our girl, and she’d have an opportunity to escape.

As if on cue, I heard her voice loud and clear for the first time since Rowan picked up the call, jerking the wheel as I peeled rubber across the pavement and swung into a back alley, hoping she hadn’t made it far, and that my shortcut would pay off tonight.

"Get fucked, assholes. I’m no easy mark."

That’s my fucking Harpie girl. You tell ‘em.

The sound of shattering glass echoed on the other side of the line, and then she was back to running, the steady thud of her feet on the pavement nearly drowning out everything else—the sound of her labored breathing, the rev of the Torino as I pushed her harder and harder, and the sound of?—

"Was that a gunshot?"

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