Page 34 of Property of Scythe
“Mila, yes. Me, no.” Shit. Saying that out loud almost makes me panic. I don’t want to run because I don’t know if this man has a weapon or will hop the fence and chase after me. I don’t want to draw him any closer to the school.
“Lottie, you can tell me. Describe the danger.”
I blink. “There’s a man wearing a dark hoodie staring at me. He’s standing at the fence opposite the playground.”
“Good. Keep going.”
I hear his bike engine start, and I know he’s heading this way.
“He’s just watching me. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I’m on my way. You keep talking to me, Lottie. Don’t hang up. Okay?”
This situation is giving me flashbacks of my attack. The fear.The uncertainty. Wondering if I’ll live through this or die a horribly painful death.
“I don’t want to die,” I whisper, hating how small and vulnerable I sound. It hits me that I can choose not to be a victim. I can stand my ground and refuse to show fear even if I’m terrified.
My chin lifts. I stay rooted in the spot, knowing help is on the way. The good thing about this town? It’s small and it doesn’t take long to reach any destination.
“Lottie, I won’t let that happen. I swear, baby.”
“You might not make it in time.”
I know. I’ve lived through it. Sometimes, the police arrive too late. That’s the horrible truth no one ever wants to think about.
“Fuck, Lottie. I’m almost there. Can you hear my bike?”
“He’s coming now,” I say as the man in the hoodie rushes forward, hops the fence, and pulls a knife from his pocket.
My knees buckle. I think I’m about to die.
Chapter 12 Scythe
“He’s coming now,” Lottie informs me, her voice sounding hollow right before the call disconnects.
“Fuck!” I holler as I pull up to the school, riding through the parking lot so fast that I hope no one jumps in front of me. “Lottie!”
I spot her kneeling on the grass, her eyes wide in horror as she lifts her hands to protect herself from an attack. That’s when I see the motherfucker rushing toward her as he lifts a fucking knife.
“Run!” I shout, but she can’t hear me over my engine. It’s too loud. There’s only one choice to make, and I jump the curb, landing on the soft grass as my bike fishtails. I’ve barely got the back tire straight again before I’m heading in his direction and picking up speed.
I have to slow him down. It’s his life or hers, and I don’t have to think about which one I’m saving. I’ve never hit someone on my Harley before, and I’m not prepared for the impact. It’s bone-jarring, rattling my teeth in my gums as I slam into the guy just feet away from reaching her.
My bike crashes as I lose control, both me and this sick fuck launching off the ground at the same time as my bike. I see him land first, his neck twisting at an odd angle right before my bike squashes him like a fucking bug. I wince as I land with a thud, rolling away from the spinning tires as I groan.
Fucking hell. I’m going to feel this later.
“Scythe!” Lottie crawls over to me, tears tracking down her face as she presses her hand against my lower abdomen. “Stay still. Don’t move.”
Why? “I’m fine.”
“No.” She sniffles. “You aren’t. We need an ambulance.”
She doesn’t understand about me and my club yet. There’s so much she doesn’t know. “Call Boomer. No paramedics.”
“Scythe.”
“Call Boomer.” I turn my head and spit blood onto the grass. I might have internal bleeding. Fuck. “He’s my brother. He’ll know what to do.”
