Page 11 of Misery
Before I can question it, he kicks the bike into gear and we tear into the night.
The bar disappears.
Along with any illusion of safety I'd built these past few months.
All the careful reconstruction. All the pretending. Gone.
I press closer as we ride. Feel his heartbeat through his leather cut. Steady. Sure. Try to process everything. The messages. The blood. The shadows in the trees.
How he knew before I told him. How he called me "mine" like it was a fact, not a possibility.
Streets blur past. He's not heading to Emil and Saga's place.
We're going somewhere else.
He makes turns that seem random but feel deliberate.
Every few blocks, he checks his mirrors and sometimes doubles back.
Sometimes he accelerates through yellow lights.
Once, he cuts through a parking lot, emerging on a different street entirely.
I realize what he’s doing now: making sure we're not followed.
Which means he thinks we might be.
My arms tighten involuntarily. I feel more than hear his response.
The bike vibrates between my thighs.
The engine is loud enough to drown out thoughts, but not enough to stop the questions.
Who is Oskar really? Not just Emil's brother. Not just the Executioner.
Something more.
Something that's been hiding at the end of the bar.
Watching with those gold-flecked eyes. Protecting me, apparently.
But from what? For how long? And why?
As we race through darkness, Los Coyotes' threats still buzzing in his pocket, I realize I'm about to find out.
Whether I want to or not.
CHAPTER TWO
Oskar
The bike eats up miles of dark highway while Elfe clings to my back like she's afraid of falling off.
Or maybe just afraid.
Her arms tighten around my waist every time I check the mirrors, which is often.
Too often, but I can't help it.
