Page 42 of Unhinged
My stomach twists. My vision blurs, my head swimming from the blood loss. His footsteps crunch closer, slow and deliberate.
I glance at Judge, but there’s no time. Earl’s too close. One move and he’d shoot him down before he made it five feet.
This is it,I think.I can’t protect him. I failed.
The rumble intensifies, vibrating the air around us. The thunder of pipes rolls closer, closer—and then?—
The roar explodes like a war cry. Tires screech. Gunfire erupts in rapid bursts.
“Shit!” Earl shouts.
I hear his boots scrambling across gravel, then the slam of the Yukon’s door. Tires screech as the vehicle roars away.
The world spins as my body slumps against the car. My vision narrows to a pinprick of light before the darkness swallows me whole.
Just before I lose consciousness, I swear I smell bergamot and blackcurrant with a tangy sweetness. Something warmer follows, rich and earthy like patchouli and mango. Andfinally, apple and plum—crisp and ripe, swirling together in a comforting haze.
My heart races and my belly flutters.
I love you, Judge,I think as everything fades away.I’m sorry I wasn’t enough.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GEARS
The roar of our engines drowns out everything else, but my instincts are sharp, tuned to the pulse of the ride, to the wind in my face, the gravel under our tires. Arrow’s ahead of me, pushing his bike hard, his back a streak of black and chrome in my peripheral. Acid’s right beside me, his bike growling like a hungry animal, and I can feel it in my chest—the way we’re all synced up, all heading for something we can’t ignore. Something’s wrong. I know it.
It’s the kind of wrong that gets under your skin. I woke up today with this gnawing feeling in my gut, like I was being watched, like eyes were on me, no matter where I went. My hair stood on end, even as I got dressed, as I grabbed my keys, as I walked out the door. I kept looking over my shoulder, like I could sense something, but there was nothing there. I told myself it was just nerves, maybe too much shit running through my head, but I couldn’t shake it.
And then, back at the house, Acid caught my eye, the question in his gaze obvious. “You feel that?” he asked, like hewas trying to keep it between us, but the tension in the air made it hard to ignore.
I nodded, a tight knot in my chest. “Yeah. Something’s off.”
Arrow didn’t need to speak. I could see it in the way he carried himself—rigid, alert, like he was waiting for the first sign of trouble. He gave me a sharp nod, and we both knew. We were all keyed up, but none of us could pinpoint why.
It can only be one thing.
Our omega.
I shouldn’t be able to feel it—we’re not even marked yet. But the bond is there, buzzing in the back of my mind like something I can’t shake off. It’s weird. Bonds aren’t supposed to work like this. Not without the mark.
But somehow... I can feel her.
Like, really feel her. Something’s off. She’s in trouble—I don’t know how I know, I justdo.
This isn’t a normal bond. It can’t be.
It has to be ‘cause it’s Kismet or something. That’s the only thing that makes sense.
And if that’s what this is… then I have to get to her. No matter what.
We just ride harder, faster, like our lives depend on it, and maybe, in a way, they do.
Then I see it.
A battered car with a crumpled front haphazardly parked in the field, looking completely out of place. My eyes narrow. There’s no way a car that shitty justhappensto end up there. But it's the figure behind the door that freezes me, makes me jerk hard on the throttle. My gut twists. I know that hair. That’s her.
Brydgett.
