Page 11 of Thor

Rain lashed against the windshield as I sped out of downtown Denver. Ironridge Memorial was forty minutes away on a good day—along winding mountain roads that grew treacherous in weather like this. I switched the wipers to their highest setting, but they barely kept up with the downpour.

My thoughts raced faster than my car. What if Amy was worse than the nurse let on? What if this was it? The thought of losing her crushed the air from my lungs. I pressed harder on the accelerator.

The highway stretched ahead, a dark ribbon glistening with rain. Headlights from oncoming traffic reflected off the wet pavement, creating a disorienting light show. I squinted through it all, hunched forward over the steering wheel.

My phone buzzed in my purse. Without thinking, I reached for it, taking my eyes off the road for just a second—long enough for disaster.

"Amy's oxygen levels are improving. Doctor says—"

I didn't finish reading the message. My tires hit a deep puddle at seventy miles per hour, and suddenly my control vanished. The Audi hydroplaned, tires floating uselessly above the slick surface. My stomach lurched as the back end swung out.

"No, no, no!" I screamed, remembering too late everything I'd been taught about steering into a skid.

The car spun once, twice—a sickening merry-go-round of headlights, rain, and guardrail. Time stretched like taffy. I had a bizarre moment of clarity where I noticed the clock on my dashboard—10:32 PM—before the world exploded around me.

Metal crunched against metal. The airbag punched me in the face with the force of a heavyweight boxer. My body jerked against the seatbelt, head snapping forward then back. Glass sprayed across my skin in tiny, stinging kisses.

Then silence, except for the hiss of steam and the soft tick of cooling metal. The world kept spinning even though my car had stopped. Rain pattered against the crumpled hood, and somewhere, a horn was blaring. Mine, I realized. My forehead rested against the wheel, setting it off.

Powder from the airbag coated my throat, making each breath a struggle. I blinked, trying to clear my vision as reality pieced itself back together like a broken mirror. I was alive. The car wasn't moving. Rain drummed on the crumpled roof, and something warm trickled down my temple—blood. I tried to move and winced as the airbag pinned me against the seat.

"Amy," I whispered, the name coming out raspy and raw. The steering wheel had been shoved closer to my chest, not enough to crush me but enough to trap me. Steam hissed from the hood, mingling with the rain to create a ghostly fog around the car.

I fumbled for my phone, finding it wedged between the seat and center console. The screen was a spiderweb of cracks, dead and useless. Fresh tears welled up, spilling hot down my cheeks and mixing with the blood.

"Fuck!" I slammed my palm against the dashboard, pain jolting up my arm. The action did nothing but remind me of my helplessness. I was stuck in a wrecked car on a dark mountain road while my sister lay in a hospital bed needing me.

I tried to force the airbag down, to create enough space to wiggle free, but my arms felt like wet noodles. Adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion. My chest ached with each breath—bruised ribs from the impact, probably. The cut on my forehead stung, blood mixing with rain that dripped through the compromised roof.

In the distance, I heard the growl of an engine. Not a car—a motorcycle. The sound grew louder, until bright headlights cut through the rain and my shattered windshield, momentarily blinding me. The engine died, and heavy footsteps splashed through puddles toward my car.

A massive silhouette appeared at my window. I should have been terrified—lone woman, crashed car, stranger in the night—but something about the broad shoulders and confident stride struck me as familiar. The door groaned as powerful hands wrenched it open, letting in a gust of rain.

"Jesus Christ." The voice was deep, rough, like gravel wrapped in velvet.

I blinked through my tears, recognition dawning slowly. Blond hair pulled back in a messy bun, thick beard soaked from the rain, intense blue eyes that looked almost electric in the dim light. It was Thor—Duke's Sergeant-at-Arms, the man he'd briefly introduced me to last month when I'd stopped by King's Tavern to drop off some financial documents.

The man who’d been haunting my dreams ever since.

"Mandy?" he said, confirming he knew me too. He crouched beside the car, his massive frame somehow fitting into the limited space. "How bad are you hurt?"

"I need to get to the hospital," I said, my voice cracking. "My sister—"

"First things first." His hands moved with surprising gentleness as he assessed me, fingers probing carefully around my neck and shoulders. "Can you move everything? Fingers? Toes?"

I nodded, wiggling my extremities to demonstrate.

"Good. Let's get this airbag out of your way." He pulled a knife from his pocket—a serious tactical blade that glinted in the dim light—and carefully sliced the deflating airbag away from me. "Your seatbelt's jammed. Hold still."

The knife made quick work of the belt, and suddenly I could breathe again. Thor's hands were huge but careful as he helped me maneuver out of the driver's seat. My legs buckled when my feet hit the wet pavement. He caught me easily, one arm supporting my waist while I steadied myself.

"My bag," I said, pointing to the passenger seat. "I need my bag."

He reached back into the car, retrieving both my bags. As he handed them to me, my weekend purse tilted, and something small tumbled out. In the beam of Thor's flashlight, I saw the glint of plastic and a flash of purple.

My unicorn keychain. The one with the sparkly horn and rainbow mane. One of my "little" things that nobody in my professional life—and certainly nobody in the MC world—was ever supposed to see.

Thor scooped it up, his expression unreadable as he looked at the childish trinket in his massive, tattooed hand. I waited for the smirk, the raised eyebrow, the judgment.

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