da Vinci
Blood seeps through the shredded fabric, hot and steady. The sting barely cuts through the haze of rage boiling just beneath the surface. Her face is still burned into the backs of my eyes.
She thinks it’s over.
Thinks she won.
The taste of blood lingers, thick on my tongue. Metallic. Familiar. Fuel.
Pain pulses with every heartbeat, but it’s distant. Background noise. A warning light ignored.
The passenger door creaks open. The engine’s already running—rumbling like it knows who it serves. The idiot behind the wheel shifts nervously, hands twitching on the steering wheel. Like a mutt waiting for approval.
Pathetic.
Still, he dragged me out—kept me from burning or turning. For now, that earns him his life.
He doesn’t matter. None of them ever mattered.
Only one thing matters now.
I turn my head. Eyes burning holes through him.
“Find her.”
No need to explain. No room for questions.
He swallows and nods, the tires already crunching over gravel, the car slipping into the dark like a shadow with teeth.