Page 108 of Stricken

An opening.

I gun it, slipping past with inches to spare. The finish line is the only thing on my mind, a shimmering mirage.

But it's more than a race now. It's a hopeless flight from my demons, from the ghosts that haunt me.

And I feel like I'm running out of track.

CHAPTER36

NICO

I exit the elevator in the back of Purgatory and push through throngs of workers, looking for a familiar face. I know it's dangerous, being alone. I know Sal is probably plotting my murder. I know he'll try again. And he's dumb enough to do so on Vlad's turf.

It's the weekend and the place is especially busy with the security and kitchen staff rushing to get ready for the busy night that's about to start. The DJ has already taken over the floor, and music has filled every corner of the premises, filtering through the walls and doors.

My eyes dart across the winding space, probing the shadowy corners for any glimpse of Vlad. Nothing.

That heartless fucker.

Why am I even looking for him?

He deserved that slap.

Outside, in the alley, I spot Seven lounging against the brick wall, cigarette dangling from his lips. His guarded eyes meet mine as I approach. These men, the Hellhounds, even though we've done some gnarly things together, still don't trust me. I get it. I'm someone from an enemy camp. I don't expect them to treat me the same way they treat Vlad. Vlad protects them. I'm just giving them extra work.

"Hey, have you seen Vlad?" I ask Seven, foregoing with pleasantries. I don't feel like small talk today.

Seven takes a long drag before answering. "Took his beast out of the warehouse. Heard from the boys, he's headed to the Enclave."

Fuck.

This can't be good.

Those hipsters with loud engines are slimy bastards. All the dirt that couldn't hack it in the real underworld of this city.

"Thanks," I tell Seven and walk along the alley until I round the corner. There I pause, inhaling deeply and raking both hands through my hair. The crisp air fills my lungs but the fire is still there. Raging inside.

A decision looms before me, heavy as a storm cloud ready to burst. I could let Vlad go, let him cool off on his own terms. But the thought of leaving things unresolved, of letting this fester between us, is unbearable.

Pride and desperation battle in me, two sides of the same fractured coin.

Finally, I signal to one of the men working the back parking lot, and he swiftly retrieves my Maserati. As I slide into the driver's seat, I make my choice. The Enclave it is. I need to find Vlad, to confront him, to untangle the knots we've tied ourselves.

Because I won't be able to sleep unless I talk to him… unless I see his face.

The engine vrooms to life, and I peel out of the alleyway, tires eating up asphalt as the towering buildings melt into streaks of color.

My mind races faster than the speedometer, replaying our encounter in vivid detail.

Vlad's words cut deeper than any knife, carving out pieces of me. The way he dismissed our relationship as if it were nothing more than a fuck… It stung more than the slap I dealt him. But beneath the anger simmering in my veins, there's an undercurrent of something else. Something raw and aching, demanding to be acknowledged.

But even as logic screams at me to turn back, to let this go... I can't. I won't. My pride, my stubborn refusal to let Vlad have the last word, propels me forward.

Halfway to the Enclave, a wave of doubt crashes over me, sudden and cold. I slam on the brakes, tires squealing in protest as I make an abrupt, illegal U-turn on the next light. Horns blare around me, but they're distant, muffled by the pounding of my own heart.

What am I doing?

Chasing after Vlad like some fool, ready to bare my heart and soul?

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