Page 74 of Creed

The handrail is cold under my touch as I swing around and go down the next flight. Running footsteps up the stairs makes my heart pound faster, but the following laughter eases some of my tension. I pass the three guys as I come down the next flight.

“Hey, Sophie.” Jaxon smiles at me, a sweaty, dirty mess like his buddies, carrying a basketball. “Are you coming to the rager tonight? We always miss you when you don’t show.”

Creed grunts in my ear, and I bite back a smile at his jealous sound.

“Umm, maybe,” I reply to Jaxon as I squeeze past them and hurry down the stairs.

Scanning outside and not seeing my father or someone he’d be with, I hurry across the grass, bypassing people lying in the sun as spring pushes its way forth. It isn’t as warm as back home but isn’t frigid, either. I tug my jacket’s hood up. Hurrying to the path that leads to the campus perimeter and city streets, I try to be vigilant of my surroundings without being obvious, which is way more challenging than it looks.

Creed isn’t chatty like Andro, but just having him on the line is reassuring.

He probably thinks I’m pathetic.

I jolt when he tells me I'm not pathetic, and I realize I said that thought out loud.

“This isn’t your world, Soph.” His voice sounds pained. “I’d never think you’re pathetic. You’re actually handling this like a rockstar.”

That makes me laugh a little. But the hairs stand on my neck, and my breathing quickens.

Creed is always so intune with me and my reactions, even over the phone. “What is it?”

I scan around, trying to look nonchalant and pick up my pace. “I… I don’t know. I feel like I’m being watched. It’s probably just nerves. It’s stupid—”

“Trust your gut, angel. How far are you from the meeting place?”

“Two minutes. A little less if I run.” I pick up my walking pace even more.

“Bane should be there soon. Ash just texted me and he’s tracking Bane’s location.”

“He has a tracker on him?” I’m slightly breathless as panic tries to press in.

“Ash said it’s something they use when they do runs.”

I don’t want to know what bikers do on runs or why they’d want to ensure they have trackers on them.

“Angel, I want you to start jogging and put the phone on speaker. Stay alert.”

I follow Creed’s command, glancing around while I do. My heart nearly stops in my chest.

Across the quad, on another path, I meet the eyes of the man walking along it. It's the sicario who had been with my father when I met him.

It can’t be a coincidence. There can only be one reason he’s here.

Me.

“Oh my god,” I gasp. “They’re here.”

“Run, angel. Now! Go, Sophie!” Creed orders without hesitation, and I bolt.

I hear two men yell curses in Spanish and know the sicario and another man are pursuing me, coming across the quad.

“Don’t look backward,” Creed urges. “That will slow you down. Pump your arms and run like the fucking wind. Fly like the angel you are.”

His encouragement gives me speed and endurance, further fueled by the curses behind me and boots thudding on the path. They’re so close—too close.

My breathing is harsh and shallow as panic almost overwhelms me. Over the phone, I can hear a motorcycle and Andro yelling to someone, ‘They’re there already!’

Through my haze of panic, I barely register the stunned looks of the students I pass, my hood slipping back as I run for my life.

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