Page 255 of Quinlan

Damien takes sharp turns in the dwindling traffic, going over the speed limit.

I’m in the seat next to him, too wired to fill in the silence. My nerves are shot. My scars burn, but for the first time, the one on my cheek doesn’t sting the most.

It’s the one on my ring finger. A fitting punishment for failing to prepare Quinlan for this. For failing to transport myself to wherever she is and save her.

We’ll get to her. We’ll get to her, and she’ll be safe and unscathed. Nothing’s happened. Nothing. Has. Happened.

We’ll have her in our arms in no time.

We’ll slaughter Aria and Rex a second after. By the morning, there’ll be nothing left of them. Not even ashes. That’s a motherfucking promise.

Damien takes a shortcut as we’re getting closer to the beeping red dot on his screen.

I want to reach inside the console and grab it. Pull the car that has Quinlan in here, and I. Can’t.

My head pounds.

Rome’s phone rings. Could be either Ace or Gavin, the investigators who are two steps ahead of us. I tune into his conversation without averting my gaze from the screen. That goddamn dot is slowing. What are they doing?

“Talk.”

Waiting for Rome has Damien’s knuckles whitening around the wheel. He’s growling, the sound blending with the feral sound coming out of me.

“The carwhat?”

Stopped.

That’s what the dot on the screen does.

They’ve stopped. But she’s okay. Has to be.

“No…” Rome again.

Adrenaline surges into my blood, and I rip the metaphorical door open. I won’t be locked in a closet for this. My panic won’t stop me from saving her.

Nothing will.

“No,” he repeats, throwing a punch at the SUV’s door. “They didn’t crash. You are not telling me their car crashed. Where’s Quinlan? Is she with you?”

“Fuck this,” Damien hisses, pressing the gas paddle for all he’s worth.

A woman runs out of the road when he does. I barely acknowledge her existence.

They might’ve crashed the car to kill her. They might’ve killed Quinlan and then—

“She’swhat?”

“Stop,” I shout before Damien has a chance to turn into the alley where our private investigators are. “Stop the car.”

We’re still moving when I wrench the door open and throw myself out onto the road. Stumble. Stagger.

Break into a run.

Gavin and Ace hover near what must be Aria’s taxi. The car crashed ten feet into the alley, the front is mashed into the wall.

How did it get there?

Don’t care. Don’t care. I do. Not. Care.

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