15. Thalia #2
Every instinct in my body starts screaming to move. Now. I yank my keys from my pocket and hit the unlock button. The Corvette chirps as the lights flash.
“Get in the car,” I snap.
Taryn startles. “Jesus, okay—”
Emma scrambles for the backseat while Taryn circles around to the other side.
Reed lingers beside me, his body angling protectively as his gaze sweeps across the lot.
His hand still rests at the base of my spine, offering a small emblem of comfort that really makes me want to do unspeakable things to him.
“Should we be worried that those men disappeared?” He asks quietly.
“Absolutely.”
His jaw tightens before he nods and slips into the passenger seat without another question. We’ve just started dating and I’m pretty sure I’m in the doghouse already. Wonderful.
I ease behind the wheel, slamming the door before turning the key in the ignition and letting the engine purr to life. Something in the back of my mind urges me to look up, and the second my eyes meet the rearview mirror, two black trucks parked near the edge of the lot flick their headlights on.
Bright beams flood the interior of my car. Beside me, Reed shifts in his seat while Taryn’s head whips toward the back window. “Uh, I think I found them...”
The trucks begin moving before she can say anything else. Not toward the exit, but towards us.
“Why are they following us?” Emma asks, her concern immediately sharpening the atmosphere inside the car.
I’m already shifting into drive. My mind is too occupied with evaluating routes and creating distance to answer her. The objective is simple: get everyone in this vehicle home safely.
Nothing else matters.
I press down on the accelerator and pull out of the parking lot just as the trucks surge forward behind us.
Their engines roar in pursuit, staying close enough that I can feel their presence even without looking in the mirror.
As I merge into traffic, I weave between slower vehicles, forcing the trucks to either commit to reckless maneuvers or lose ground.
A hand brushes mine where it rests on the shifter.
My gaze breaks for a moment, shifting over to Reed.
I expect confusion, fear, maybe even anger after everything that’s happened tonight.
Instead, there’s only concern. He’s staring at me like he wants to help but has no idea how.
The look makes something tighten painfully in my chest.
“Okay, I don’t know what’s going on,” Taryn says from the backseat, gripping the handle above the door, “but at least talk to us.”
I don’t.
My attention stays fixed on the road ahead and the mirror above it. The lead truck is trying to stay directly behind me while the second hangs back, waiting for an opening. They’re working together like a well-oiled machine, but that’s not enough.
A gap opens between two cars in the next lane, and I take it. The truck behind us immediately follows, but the driver commits half a second too late and nearly clips a sedan trying to close the space. Horns erupt around us as traffic compresses behind them.
Good. A little breathing room.
“Thalia,” Reed says softly.
I hear the question hidden beneath my name, but I can’t afford to answer it.
Every intersection becomes a calculation, and every lane change is measured.
I watch reflections in storefront windows, monitor the traffic patterns ahead, and track the trucks through my mirrors without appearing to.
Downtown is crowded enough to help me if I use it correctly and dangerous enough to get someone hurt if I don’t.
The last thing I want is to scare the people in this car. Unfortunately for them, that ship sailed about three blocks ago.
I reach up and flip the concealed switch mounted near the visor, and blue and red lights flash across the dashboard.
“Illegal,” Taryn hisses. “Very illegal. How the fuck do you have those?”
I don’t get the chance to answer.
A familiar voice suddenly explodes through the speakers. “Bitch. Why are your emergency lights on? Where are you?”
My eyes widen.
Of all the possible moments…
“Who’s that?” Reed asks.
I immediately stab at the controls, trying to disconnect the call.
“Oh my God,” Alana gasps before I can. “Are you Reed?”
His eyebrows rise. “You talk about me?”
“Now is not the time, Al,” I hiss.
My best friend releases an exaggerated sigh as if I’m interrupting her evening instead of actively being chased. “We’ll discuss this later. Take the next exit.”
I dart around a semi-truck and take the ramp without hesitation. The movement sends everyone sliding slightly in their seats.
“A mile ahead there’s a parking garage,” Alana continues. “East side of the street. Don’t go straight in.”
The trucks remain behind us as we cut through downtown. They’re farther back now, but not far enough. I can still see them weaving aggressively through traffic, desperate to close the distance.
The garage comes into view, and I drive right past it.
“What are you doing?” Emma asks.
In the mirror, the trucks continue after us without slowing.
Five seconds later, I slam the car into reverse and whip backward into the garage entrance before either driver realizes I’ve changed direction.
The darkness swallows us almost instantly as I guide the car down a level and tuck it behind a concrete support column.
Then I kill the engine. Silence fills the cabin as no one speaks—breathes—at the mere prospect of them finding us. The only sound is the ticking of cooling metal and the occasional shift from someone in the backseat.
A few moments later, the distant growl of engines echoes from outside the garage as both trucks race past the entrance.
There’s no doubt they’re still convinced we’re ahead of them.
Only when the sound finally fades do I allow myself to relax.
My grip loosens on the steering wheel, and the tension drains from my shoulders.
“That was intense,” Alana says through the speakers.
“Yeah,” I mutter.
I glance toward the passengers filling my car and immediately wish I hadn’t. Every single one of them is staring at me. There isn’t an ounce of relief or gratitude in their eyes. Only suspicion.
And judging by the expressions on their faces, they’re starting to realize that normal people don’t drive like that.
“Al, I’ll call you back,” I say, my voice deathly calm and too steady for such an adrenaline-inducing moment. I press a finger to the red button on my controls before my fist tightens on the wheel.
“What the fuck was that?” Emma whispers, shattering the quiet.
I start the car, every movement calm and slow as I pull us out of the garage and follow the directions that are burned into memory. Taryn and Emma’s apartment is only a few blocks away, but they aren’t paying attention to how I know that.
“Ignoring us isn’t going to erase what just happened.” Taryn says loudly.
“No, it won’t,” I agree.