Page 80 of Vicious Addictions

I grip the steering wheel tight, the engine’s hum the only sound keeping me grounded. The narrow country road stretches ahead, swallowed by the somber night, the occasional tree casting long, skeletal shadows under the pale moonlight. I’m driving on autopilot since my mind is stuck on what I left behind me more than on the road ahead.

Still trapped back at the warehouse. Still stuck on Jude.

That look in his eyes—raw, hollow, bleeding with something he refuses to name.

I can’t shake it. I can’t shake him.

With one hand, I pull my gold pendant out and rub at it between my thumb and forefinger as I try to focus on the road. The isolated countryside is eerily quiet at this hour, the heavy darkness cloaking everything in its path. I look at the GPS and realize it will take me at least an hour to arrive at the manor. Felix and my father must be anxious to know how tonight’s sting went, so I decide to put them out of their misery by calling ahead. The sound of my phone ringing is still reverberating throughout the car when a pair of headlights appear in my rearview mirror.

My brows furrow since there hasn’t been another car on this road for miles. The vehicle behind me is moving fast, too fast, closing the distance between us at an alarming rate. Something about it makes my skin prickle.

“Sweetpea? Are you alright? Did everything go to plan?” my father’s voice rings out after answering my call.

“Yes, Dad. All good,” I say, a little too clipped, as a black SUV gets close enough for the reflection of its headlights to blind me through the rearview mirror.

“What’s wrong?” my father asks, sensing something isn’t right with me.

“Nothing I can’t handle, Daddy,” I reply lightheartedly, not to worry him.

I push down on the pedal, trying to increase the gap with the chasing vehicle, but they get closer effortlessly, to the point of slamming my rear bumper. The impact jerks me forward, the seatbelt cutting into my shoulder. My heart slams against my ribs as I fight to steady the car. Gravel spits from under the tires, but by some miracle I manage to keep it on the road.

“Mina, what was that sound?!”

I want to tell him what’s happening, but I am unable to utter a word because they hit me again, even harder than before. My car swerves violently, my breath hitching as I wrestle with the wheel, trying to keep the car on the road, but the chasers are relentless. They hit me again and again until another brutal shove sends me careening off the road.

The world tilts for what feels like an eternity, the deafening sound of the crash hurting my eardrums. Pain explodes through my skull as the airbag deploys, slamming into my face like a hammer. White-hot agony shoots through my head, and for a moment, everything is just noise—crushed metal, the hiss of a punctured tire, the distant ringing in my ears. My vision blurs as darkness threatens to creep at the edges.

I’m still gasping for breath when I notice movement through the shattered windshield. I can barely make it out at first, until I see a blurry shadow approaching, the faint sound of footsteps crunching against the dirt. As it gets closer, a familiar face with a manic grin comes into view. Even through the haze of pain, I recognize it instantly. The pale white skin. The cold, dead eyes. The two red gashes slashed across his eye and cheek—Pavlin.

My stomach twists when he opens my door, revengeful intent clear in his lifeless eyes.

My lips part, but no sound comes out.

“I knew our paths would meet again,” he says before grabbing me.

The last thing I see is his fist swing all the way back before connecting it with my face.

Then, darkness pulls me under and engulfs me whole.

Pain drags me out of the black abyss.

It starts as a dull throb in my skull, pulsing behind my eyes, then sharpens into something mean and relentless. My right eye feels swollen, the skin stretched too tight, the ache deep and unforgiving. I try to lift my hand to touch it, but I can’t. That’s when I see from my good eye that something is binding my wrists, instantly causing my panic to jolt through me like a live wire.

My breathing turns shallow as I pull against the restraints. Thick, industrial cables are wrapped tightly around my arms and legs to a single chair, biting into my skin with every jerk or yank I make. My body continues to protest with every movement I make, feeling sore, bruised, and battered.

What the hell happened?

Or better yet, where the hell am I?

Blinking through the haze, I take in my surroundings. The air is damp, tinged with the sour bite of old beer and rust. Towering metal vats stand in the darkness, their once-polished surfaces streaked with grime and dust. Broken glass crunches beneath my boots as I shift, the faint flicker of a single hanging bulb casting jagged shadows against cracked concrete walls.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out I’m in an abandoned brewery.

Now, if I could only remember how I got here.

I suck in a slow breath, forcing my thoughts to clear long enough for me to make sense of how I got myself into this mess.

The last thing I remember was that godforsaken SUV trying to push me off the road. I remember the crash and then the airbag slamming into my face.

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