CHAPTER 51
Riven
Panic Room – Au/Ra
The Charger speeds away, I’m frozen in place.
Stop.
The word reaches my throat and dies there before it ever becomes a sound.
My body isn't mine anymore—my lungs burn, desperate for air, but they refuse to fill. Every muscle has turned to stone, locking me into the passenger seat while the engine screams louder than I ever could.
He's laughing, of course he is, he lives for that shit.
I barely register it anyway.
The city outside folds into streaks of neon and chrome, crosswalks dissolving into light, side streets appearing and vanishing in the space between heartbeats.
Too many places to crash.
My brain counts them before I even realize I'm doing it. That alley, that truck with the new robot ad to get to your home for chores, that intersection.
That's where I'd die. That's where we'd die. That's where—
My heartbeat pounds so violently it drowns everything else, blurring my hearing until the world becomes a muffled roar beneath the howl of the engine.
My hands ache from gripping the edge of the seat, though I don't remember reaching for it.
I can't blink. If I blink, I'll miss the thing that will probably kill us.
Everything beyond the windshield feels unreal, as if the city has sunk beneath dark water.
Neon bleeds across the glass, smearing every building into impossible colors, every taillight into a wound of red.
He's saying something—another thrill-drunk comment—but his voice never reaches me.
I don't hear words.
I hear tires clawing at asphalt, I hear metal twisting, I hear shattering glass that hasn't happened yet.
My body has already decided we're crashing, it only sees Kyle and the sound of his body, the flesh hitting metal.
“E-Evren…” I only manage.
I want to tell him to slow down, that I'm terrified, that Kyle's accident—now that he knows—traumatized me to the point that every time I'm in a car speeding beyond the limit, I freeze like some fucking ice statue at one of my parents' cold galas.
But the words are lost in my throat.
“What?”
His hand is on my thigh, only moving to change gears or yank the wheel hard.
But I don't register it, I simply can't. Everything feels distant.
He takes the turn sharply.
I brace myself, my nails digging into the leather seat, almost piercing it.
“What, Riven?” he repeats.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
I want to punch him in the implant and knock him out, I want to scream at him but I fucking can't.
It's like my own self is trapped inside a stranger's body, screaming and pounding, but no one hears.
He slams on the brakes in the middle of the road leading down to the Lower Layers.
Car horns blare as vehicles speed past us.
His hand finds the back of my skull, while the one on my thigh tightens enough to bruise.
He forces my head to turn toward him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snarls. “Why the hell aren't you being a brat?”
I see his glowing, furious eyes searching my face for an answer I can't even form.
“Answer me!” he screams.
I flinch.
The first tiny movement my body has made since he pulled away from the curb.
My breathing quickens, I feel a knot forming in my stomach that makes me nauseous.
I see his eyes searching, but he can't understand. How could he?
“What is wrong with you?!” he shouts again, using his grip on my skull to shake me.
My head lolls back and forth.
“E-Evren…” I whisper.
He instantly stops, his breathing is ragged.
“Answer me, Riven.”
“I... I can't.”
“The fuck do you mean you can't?” He leans over the center console. “Speak.”
“S-speed…” I gulp. “I... I'm scared.”
His eyes widen.
His grip tightens for a fraction of a second before losing its intensity.
“You…” He cuts himself off. “You're scared?”
I don't answer.
That's enough for him to change his posture—and his hands.
His calloused hands slide up to cup my cheeks, his thumbs brushing roughly over my cheekbones.
“You dumb bitch.” He scoffs.
He releases me and turns his face away, his jaw working before he punches the steering wheel several times in silence.
I flinch at every thud.
I'm ashamed, I hate being vulnerable, but this is too much.
I can't help it.
I can't fucking help it.
I can’t—
Suddenly, he unbuckles me, his hands are under my arms as he lifts me off my seat and settles me on his lap, right in the middle of the road.
My back is against his chest, his face buried in the back of my neck.
One of his hands moves my hair off my back to the side, his fingers brushing against my skin.
His lips brushing it.
Then both of his arms wrap tightly around my waist.
“Then you drive if you're scared when I do.” he whispers.
His breath warm against my skin, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I freeze again, but not for the same reason this time.
What the fuck does he mean?
I don't know how to drive.
And even if I did, why is he telling me that?
“I-I don't know—”
“Of course you don't know how to.” He sighs.
The puff of air against my skin makes me tense and relax at the same time.
“Then you stay right here while I'm driving.”
I tense again.
My mind spirals again through a hundred possibilities, the sheer danger of this position, the speed, the people outside.
Everything is moving too fast inside my head.
My breathing quickens again.
“It's fucking dangerous. If we crash, if we hit—”
Evren suddenly bites down on the juncture of my neck and shoulder.
I yelp in surprise more than pain.
“Shut the fuck up and trust me.” He straightens up. “Racing, cars... that's my domain. You can trust me on, at least, that shit.”
He slides one hand from me to the steering wheel, the other to the gearshift.
He is kind of right, the only domain I can trust him is driving.
He is reckless, he is crashing into other cars but he decides to, not by accident.
The sudden loss of his arms makes my body lean back against his chest before I even realize I'm doing it.
“If it's too fast, dig your nails into me, elbow the shit out of me.”
He changes gears and drives again.
When his hand leaves the gear lever, it slides back around my waist.
I can feel his thumb brushing slow circles under the swell of my breast.
I’m still frozen, still terrified of crashing, of the speed but the fact that he is acknowledging it, that he knows it leaves me less of it.
I’m surprised he doesn’t mock me or uses it against me.
I won’t ever—probably—heal from that trauma, but it’s kind of reassuring.
My grip is still tight on his thighs, my hands aching. My mind still sees everything that could go wrong, my body still doesn't feel like mine to control.
But it feels almost—almost manageable.
I can’t tell if it's because he didn't mock me or because his physical contact is anchoring me.
The drive is tense, fast, still way over the speed limit. I'm still scared as hell, but I trust him with that.
The door of a garage slides open. His Charger pulls in and parks.
I don't know where we are. It's not the garage.
“Where are—” I start to ask.
“My personal garage, in my building.” he cuts me off.
I don't say anything else.
The thing that makes me wonder is why he hasn't lifted me off him yet and why we aren't going inside.
“Evren,” I whisper. “Why aren't we going into your apartment?”
“Because I'm good here.” He buries his face in my neck once again. “And you are staying.”
I'm about to protest, my body finally starting to feel like mine again, but he slides his hands to my hips, lifts me up, and instead of putting me back in the passenger seat like any normal person, he turns me to face him.
“Better.” He leans back against the headrest, his hands gripping my hips. “So, you're scared because of the accident? You'll only get to be scared with me. Only me.”
I grimace, fucking weirdo.
“You're fucking weird. Psychopath weird.”
He only nods in agreement, grinning.
He closes his eyes before opening them again, but the way he looks at me has changed.
He's deadly serious.
“Ren dug into your brother's past,” he starts. “Couldn't find shit besides the accident photos, a letter got the Enforcers to reopen the case. Handwritten. But we couldn’t access it.”
He pauses, searching my face.
My eyes widen, my hands digging into his chest, my heart has clearly stopped beating.
“So?” I hiss through my teeth.
“The problem is that we couldn't find anything else. We looked into the owner of the car—dead three years ago. Convenient, huh?”
He shrugs before continuing like he's talking about the weather or fucking mechanics.
“The file on your brother's death is encrypted, sealed so well that Ren can't hack it. That's all we have.”
“Oh.” I say, disappointed.
I lower my head, shaking from the revelation.
Someone wants to bury what happened to my brother, someone wants me to suffer, someone is giving me the exact reason to blow everything up.
But Kyle didn't deserve this, no matter what his past was, and it's getting us nowhere.
My hands curl into fists, my nails digging into my palms. All I can feel is rage and disappointment.
His fingers glide under my chin, his thumb applying pressure as he forces my head up to look at him.
I know I look like I'm about to explode—in tears or rage, both, even me, I don’t know which one.
But the first thing coming into my mind is that I want to destroy everything in my way until I find out what happened to Kyle.
What really happened.
And who's behind all of this.
But I can’t, even Evren and Ren couldn’t find anything.
“What's on your mind, little troublemaker?”
“I... I don't know.” I manage to say with a shaky voice. “It feels like hitting a wall.”
“Then hit it until you break it.”
I look at him, really look at him.
His eyes aren't glowing.
In the dim light of the car and the garage, his face seems softer.
He looks younger, but also more dangerous.
How the fuck is that even possible?
“But I can't. You found nothing, so how can I fucking break through that damn wall?”
I can feel the rage flaring through my veins.
Someone murdered the only person who ever cared for me, leaving me alone in this fucked-up world.
Evren looks at me for a few seconds before his grip tightens and his lips curl into a predatory leer.
“I'll be your tool, use me however you want. Destroying things is my reason to live.”
A sharp breath of surprise stops me dead.
He wants me to use him?
I shake my head, then give a sharp nod of agreement.
“That's my girl.” His voice carries a note of triumph.
“I'm not.”
“Sure, whatever you say.” He smirks.
“You're only my tool.” I look away, forcing him to either tighten his grip or let go. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Mmh.” He hums quietly. “It'll be the sexiest thing to witness.” He leans closer. “Besides, if you're making waves, I want to be part of it.”
“Of course you want to be part of the chaos.” I roll my eyes. “Does that turn you on?”
“Yes.”
He rolls his hips upward, creating friction between my baggy shorts and his jeans, proving that I hit the right spot.
Heat floods my face, I'm probably as red as his fucking streaks.
“Not the fucking moment, you perv.” I mutter under my shaky breath.
“With you, it's never the right moment.” He whispers against my cheek. “You'll always reject me until your body can't lie anymore.”
I swear, this man is fatal to my brain and body.
A violent shiver runs down my spine and settles deep in my core as he continues to roll his hips forward.
Heat spreads through my whole body, my heart pounds wildly against my ribs.
I see his gaze drop to my lips before snapping back to my eyes.
If he wants to play at this game, we’ll play.
I cup his face with both hands and roll my own hips against his.
His breath hitches, and his head falls back against the headrest. A faint blush spreads across his neck and ears.
“Don't stop, Riven.” he orders.
“Stop what?” I tilt my head, feigning innocence.
“Skimming little—” His grip leaves my chin and slides along my neck and collarbone.
I incline my head to the side, giving his fingers more room.
“Fucking hell Riven.” He pauses “You're driving me fucking insane.”