Chapter 6 #2
“Goddammit, Kovacs! Hate me later. Just get on the fucking bike,” Warwick growled, his aqua eyes burning into me like fire through the dusk, the bike engine revving.
Was this another trap? He had already betrayed me once.
“Stop!” A voice shouted from behind me.
We’d been caught. There was now only one direction I could go.
“Megallas!” Halt!
Bullets vaulted by my head, making me duck, lurching out of their direct line. Killian had been kind, but I knew if I was caught trying to escape, it would be a betrayal to him. And as I’d seen, he had no tolerance for that.
“Kovacs! Now!” Warwick yelled. The back wheel squealed as he twisted it around, dust and smoke billowing up off the cobbled street in a hazy mushroom.
Shoving away my doubt, I sprinted forward, jumping on behind him.
“Hold on tight.” He punched the accelerator, lurching us forward, forcing me to wrap my arms around his thick muscular torso to stay on.
Twisting the motorcycle sharply, he aimed for the only single, winding cobble road exiting the side of the castle.
Screaming guards ran after us, my heart leaping into my throat as pops of gunfire pinged off the back of the bike and ground.
Night blended the bike into its embrace, making it harder to see.
Zooming around a curve that led around the front of the castle, Warwick hit the accelerator again.
To the side, built into part of the old city wall, a metal gate squealed, rolling open.
The sound of men and engines crashed against my nerves when we passed until we turned the opposite way down a lane.
Warwick’s muscles strained underneath his shirt, his head darting behind at the sound of other motorbikes coming alive behind us.
Following his gaze, I spotted six guards on motorcycles and a huge SUV barreling out of the tunnel underneath the castle.
Headlights broke through the dusky light, trying to pinpoint us and lock on.
“Don’t you have a gun?” I patted his sides, searching for a weapon.
“You think they’d let me close to the palace with a weapon? Killian has never trusted me.”
Huh?
“How do you think I even got up here? He thought I was here to see him.”
“A matter has come up.”
Warwick was that matter?
I was sure there were guardhouses on every road leading up to the castle, probably several layers of them to go through to get to the king himself.
I realized Warwick wouldn’t have been able to sneak up there.
He used the connection to Killian to get close.
And now Killian would know he outright betrayed him . . .
A barrage of bullets came at us.
“Shit.” I pressed so tightly to him every breath he took vibrated through me. His hands clamped down on my thigh, ramming it against his hip.
“This is going to get very bumpy. Do not let go for any reason,” he ordered over his shoulder.
He didn’t give me a chance to respond before he hit the gas again, traveling down toward a walking path, my ass almost slipping off the tiny speck of seat I had.
I clamped down like an octopus, every muscle locked around his frame.
Bullets raced by me, the motorcycle flying down the dirt road, cutting and weaving through the winding park lane, taking us down from the hill the palace sat on.
Gunshots licked us, one almost taking out a tire. Warwick’s attention drifted to the perfect position the caravan had above us on the switchback lane.
“Warwick!” I screamed, pointing ahead at a truck up the road, coming for us, headlights bouncing, taking up the entire stone archway of the guard gate. The man behind the wheel noticed us too late.
“Fuck!” Warwick yanked the bike to the side, the tires skidding, his leg stepping out to keep us upright as he stopped us from colliding with the vehicle. He looked ahead, and I followed his gaze. I could almost see his face, feel his smirk, feel the decision clicking into his head.
“No.” Fear sucked the air from my lungs. “No. Fuck. No.”
“Come on, princess, where’s your sense of adventure?” his voice whispered from behind, like a ghost, leaving residue, sticky and warm, though what he was thinking was impossible.
Bang!
A bullet clipped by our heads, ending any other thought than our immediate situation.
Warwick tugged me closer as the bike ground toward our only exit.
“Fuckfuckfuck.” I tucked into him, gripping with my muscles so tightly it hurt.
The bike hit the crumbling stone stairs heading down to the river, no longer used by tourists, nature having reclaimed the unused path.
My body jolted as the bike struggled over the loose terrain, the weakened steps disintegrating, slipping as we headed down the violent bumps.
My teeth crunched together, my brain like scrambled eggs.
The thick vines took payment as we passed, cutting through my cotton pants and shirt like they were warm butter, then slicing into my limbs and face.
Closing my eyes, I curled into Warwick’s broad, muscular back, trying to ignore the lashes of nature’s whip.
I concentrated on his heartbeat, his warmth, his rich woodsy smell that trickled down my throat like a swig of the best whiskey I could ever taste, easing my breath, pushing everything away as if it were a dream.
Everything disappeared except him. A sensation of calm claimed me, like I was on another plane.
My brain flashed with an image of a screaming baby, coated in afterbirth, the night sky igniting in vibrant colors above the baby, then it switched to a man lying motionless in blood-drenched grass.
Warwick . . . his eyes closed, his form black and burned, his neck at an unnatural angle, the same night sky cracking and glowing over him.
Bang!
Shots cut through my reverie, my lids bolting open, the images dissolving faster than they came, slipping through my fingers like they never happened.
With my world back to the present, my head snapped around to see a few guards aiming guns at us from the bottom plaza, their guardhouse close to the dock where people could step into Killian’s realm.
We hit the bottom of the stairs, my head pounding from the brutal terrain as more slugs whizzed at us, nicking our legs. They clearly weren’t trying to kill us but slow our advancement.
Warwick tensed, a growl vibrating his throat, his head set with determination. He hit the accelerator, driving the bike through the throng of men, forcing them to jump out of the way.
Zigzagging slightly to miss their bullets, we were about to curve around a corner.
Pop!
The back tire hissed, tugging the bike down like we were driving through mud.
“Fuck.” Warwick growled, his head twisting down to look at it. He gave the engine more gas. We couldn’t stop. Panic pounded in my chest as the bike lagged while air continued to slip from the tire.
“Hold on, Kovacs,” he yelled, drawing my attention forward, where locked gates loomed ahead of us.
Groaning under my breath, I strung my arms around him tighter, once again hiding my face in his shirt, his warm skin feeling like the safest place in the world.
Revving the motor, he tried to enhance the speed, the motorcycle struggling at the demand, not quite barreling us toward the twenty-foot metal gate.
Please be old and not magically locked.
The front of the bike slammed into the gate, the impact reverberating through the metal and blasting into my bones with an audible crack. My head snapped back and then forward, digging into Warwick’s spine, pain zinging up my nerves so forcefully I swore I could feel his body screaming with agony.
The shredding noise of twisting metal sliced into my eardrums as the lock snapped, the chopper forcing the gate to bend on its hinges. Destroying the front of the motorbike, the gate finally gave, coming apart, and with it, a tickle of magic crawled up the back of my neck.
The sight of another set of stairs made me whimper. He grasped the handlebars firmly as we bounced and crunched down the short flight, the back tire blowing out completely as we hit the bottom and exited onto the main roadway.
Horse carriages squealed, horses neighed, motorcycles and a few cars honked and swerved as Warwick skidded the dilapidated bike onto the busy street. The odor of burning tires made me gag.
This side of the river was much more up-to-date on magic-designed automobiles, though far more horses and carriages trotted in the slow lane than autos.
The sight and smell of the Danube kissed my face, my eyes tearing up. The sun slipped completely over the horizon, HDF glowing brightly from across the river, a beacon of hope in the distance. Once again, I was so close I could feel it, but I knew we were far from safe.
A piercing squawk jerked my head up to the sky, and I spotted a hawk heading for us. Of course. Not only were hawk-shifters some of the greatest hunters, this one came with a personal vendetta. Nyx. That bitch hated me.
“We have company,” I warned, wishing we could go faster. The flapping tire was starting to shred, and the bridge to the Pest side felt farther and farther away. Warwick grumbled under his breath.
Nyx swooped down, sharp claws scraping my scalp.
“You bitch.” I swiped at the air with one hand, feeling her feathers slip by me again. Her loud screech was filled with rage. While she dipped and clawed at me, Warwick turned the bike toward the Chain Bridge.
“Fuck.” Warwick’s tone filled me with dread. I sought what had made him react. When I did, despair filled my stomach, hollowing out my chest.
“No,” I whispered. I couldn’t bear being this close again and not making it.
In the middle of the bridge, which separated the sides, was a blockade right on the dividing line. Only a few guards stood around an SUV. They scrambled together, pointing their weapons at us. It was enough to stop us.
I could hear the motorcycles of the guards coming behind us, the hawk-shifter circling over us, the blockade in front, and prison coming down around me again.
I had been living in a shiny prison, the glitter distracting me from the truth—I was still a captive.
Now that I was out of the palace, I tasted my freedom.
“Go.” My voice came out cold and determined.
“The chances of us getting past them are less than zero. We have no weapons, a bike barely moving forward, and only two of us.”
“I don’t care.” My knees dug into his thighs. “I won’t go back. Better to die free than live a life in a cage.”
Squawk!
Nyx dove for us again, swooping across Warwick’s face. Her first and last mistake. A hawk might be a hunter, but the legendary wolf was a predator, his attack quick and lethal.
His hand plucked her from the air like a striking snake. Bones crunched and snapped as his large palm crushed her neck, then flung the carcass on the ground.
My mouth hung open. The speed and detachment with which he could kill stirred both awe and fear deep in my bones.
I hated her. She had tormented me and beat me, but seeing the corpse of the woman who lost her lover scarcely one bridge down cracked grief into my heart. A poetically sad ending for them both.
“You feel bad for her.” Warwick’s head snapped back to me, his brows crunching together. “Why?”
“I-I . . . Wait, how did you know I felt bad?”
He blinked at me, his mouth opening, but before he could answer, gunfire rang out from behind. The guards from the castle gained on us, not caring about innocent pedestrians in the way.
Warwick’s lids narrowed to slivers before swiveling back around. “You ready, princess? We might be dying on this bridge as well.”
“Yeah.” I relaced my arms around his torso, feeling oddly calm. “You and I have already died a dozen times. What’s one more?”
He turned his head enough for me to see his profile, his eyes darkening, the intensity like a capsule around me where I could forget death waited for us in the middle of the bridge. We were riding the lethal line between safety and peril.
I should have died when my mother gave birth to me. When I was shot in the back. In Halálház, many times. From the pills Killian had given me.
Death seemed to reject us both, letting us slip by. So, if this was when it finally took its claim, the price for all the leniency . . .
So be it.
I would die free.