Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Burning rubber and gasoline scorched my nostrils as mushrooms of smoke swirled and clotted the air, the motorcycle protesting the advancement, ready to end its journey right here.
But as if Warwick commanded its allegiance to him, the bike surged forward, giving its last effort, heading into battle with everything it had left.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Gunfire pinged off the road and metal of the bike, the front wheel hissing as a bullet tore through it. Chaos filled the night like untuned violins, shredding the air. Guards bellowed from ahead and behind, the squealing of the tire rim sending sparks into the night sky.
I heard the sound of flesh being hit, and Warwick’s spine curled forward with a grunt.
“Warwick!” Grabbing for him, I sought the source of his wound on his side and covered it with my hand, trying to limit the oozing blood.
A painful piercing dove through my own side in the same spot, as if I could feel a bullet tear through my flesh, forcing a gasp from my lips. I reached down but found nothing there.
Warwick slumped forward, almost falling off the bike.
“No!” My hands clutched him harder to my chest, trying to keep him upright, his body and the bike swaying. Warm blood flooded my palm from the wound.
My panic was so deep it felt as if something came and scooped out my insides, dumping them on the pavement, leaving me cold and empty. The idea of losing him barreled into me like a train. No. Not this close to freedom.
Adrenaline twisted my senses, making every sight, smell, and sound tangible against my skin, but strangely from far away as well, as if nothing could touch me.
The feel of Warwick’s bulk pressed into mine; his heat wrapped around me like a shield.
Once again, he felt as if he had climbed inside me, slipping through my skin like he had the right to consume me, to give me the pain he was feeling.
I only plunged deeper, shoving away all logic and following an instinct I didn’t even understand.
“You do not get to die. Not today,” I muttered over and over.
My hands didn’t move, but I felt a strange sensation that I was grazing his skin, everywhere, weaving in and out, circling his wound.
The agony in my body was so painful and tight I could barely breathe and thought I might pass out.
I swayed, almost tipping off the bike, but Warwick’s hand wrapped around me.
A deep growl vibrated through him, rocking against my chest. His head lifted, his shoulder rolling back.
Regripping the bike handles, his muscles tightened.
The guards ran around placing gates to barricade us, wanting to stop us from crossing the invisible line between the sides.
A roar thundered deep from Warwick as he pressed the accelerator to the max.
I tucked into him with a gasp. The barrage of bullets and yells strangled my throat with fear.
The crippled motorcycle plowed into a makeshift fence they’d put up.
The bike squealed and moaned, hitting the barricade, the impact flinging us into the air.
My bones crunched as I hit the pavement, rolling, and the asphalt tore my skin.
I whimpered as pain volleyed through every nerve.
My body had hit a curb, my head spinning, my stomach filling with nausea. Blinking, I stared up at the early evening stars, twinkling and growing bolder. Beautiful and peaceful, impartial to the battle below.
Kovacs . . .
I felt more than heard my name glide over and through me, jolting my head.
Pushing myself up, my head spun, my throat thick with bile. Pain sizzled along every inch of me, but I was still mostly numb to the true agony permitting me from moving. When I did so, I took in the massive figure lying several meters from me.
“Warwick,” I grunted. Struggling to my feet, I hobbled over to him.
It was then I realized there was no longer any gunfire, no guards seizing me.
My head snapped to the men only meters away, standing at the painted line on the bridge as if an actual wall blocked us, their guns lowered, their faces full of horror . . .
Because we did it. We somehow made it past them. We were safe. Unless they were willing to start a war.
Margaret Bridge and the Chain Bridge were the only bridges divided between fae and HDF.
The other ones were treated as neutral territory and “gray” areas.
Between these bridges, the two sides resided, silently challenging each other.
Only the divide of the Danube kept them from shoving each other like bullies on a playground.
I felt it would be only time before one took the first swipe.
And I didn’t want to wait and see if today was going to be that day.
“Warwick?” I wheezed, dropping beside him.
His shirt glistened with blood, saturated and dark around the gunshot, though it no longer seemed to be oozing blood.
His face was masked in abrasions, cutting into his beard, painting his dark hair auburn.
Road burn stamped over his skin like a branding iron.
His lids closed, his chest barely rising, as another shot of adrenaline shot through my veins. “Wake up!” I shook him.
Nothing. “Warwick!” I shook harder.
Behind us, a guard spoke into a walkie-talkie. “What do you want us to do, sir?” His voice came from behind me, and it was as if I could feel Killian through the contraption, a link to the man I had just betrayed. Fear thudded at the base of my neck.
One word, and they could forget the fragile treaty they had with Istvan. Not losing me might be worth it.
“Get the fuck up, Warwick!” I gritted through my teeth. In terror, I slapped his face, trying to stir him. A grumble rose from his chest, but his lids stayed pinned together.
“Wake. Up!” I demanded, my palm pulling back to smack him again. His hand darted up, his fingers wrapping around my wrist, stopping me in a blink. His sudden movement hitched my breath with an audible hiss. Aqua eyes opened, blazing up into mine.
Something about the moment whooshed a strange sense of déjà vu through me, capturing the air in my lungs like a vault, setting me back on my heels. But as fast as it came, the image slipped away, not letting me hold on to anything.
“I enjoy it rough, but don’t think now is the appropriate time, princess.” A smirk twitched his cut lips.
I let out a breathy exhale, closing my eyes briefly in relief, determination set on my brow.
“Come on.” I bit down painfully as I rose to my feet, helping him up. His massive body leaned into mine, swaying while he tried to get his feet under him. Both of us were torn up from the crash, blood dripping onto the cement from our wounds as we took steps away.
Oddly, my right side ached the most, as though I was the one who had been shot.
Warwick should have been unconscious if not dead from the bullet. We both should have been. “Guess death didn’t want us today either.”
Gripping me, he turned to glance at the busted bike, our escape vehicle lying on the ground, shredded and twisted, leaking its fluids.
“It took one of us as payment,” he muttered, then swung us back around. “Let’s get out of here.”
Both of us hobbled off the bridge as a crowd lined up at the Pest end, watching the drama unfold in front of them, their mouths open in either awe or fear.
The fae sentinels stayed silent behind us, letting us amble away. I felt uneasy that Killian would let the two of us go so easily. He seemed to think humans were below him. Why did he bother with the treaty?
A cool breeze whipped at my knotted, grimy hair.
The throng parted, letting us pass. Briefly, I peered back, seeing the palace lights glow from the other side.
The place, which held me for weeks, appeared picturesque and powerful on the hill, a silent beauty.
Yet I could feel in my bones a change in the delicate line of truce HDF and the fae had been walking for years.
I had upset the balance and tipped the first pin over.
“You are a conundrum, Ms. Kovacs. A wave crashing into everything. Twisting, breaking, and flipping all upside down the moment you enter.”
“A single drop of water can be the one that breaks the dam.”
Warwick and I trudged our way north, my muscles feeling heavier every moment, as if I were taking on Warwick’s hurt and pain as well as my own.
Turning the corner, the wall of Leopold stood a couple hundred yards away, the main gate coming into view.
My eyes clogged with tears of relief and happiness. I made it home.
Warwick stopped, my attention jerking to him.
“What? We’re almost there.”
“You are.” He peered down at me. “I did my part.”
“What?” I could hear commotion stirring at the gate, voices and movement from people alerted to our presence, but it all was background noise when I looked up into Warwick’s battered face.
“You are home and safe.” He nodded, stepping away.
“But . . . you’re hurt. Let our doctors look at you.”
“I’m not welcome here anymore than I was welcome on the fae side.” His voice slid over me while his boots took him a few more steps away. “Don’t mention me. You’ve never seen or heard of me.”
“What?” I sputtered, feeling a stab of his rejection. “How can I not? You saved me.”
“You are pretty capable of saving yourself . . . if you had wanted to.” His eyebrow rose as he receded deeper into the shadows.
With the immediate fear and danger gone, the memory of what he did, the deep betrayal . . . I stepped back, anger bristling my neck. “Don’t accuse me of something when all I was trying to do was survive.”
“Survive?” He snorted. “You looked to be doing far more than that. And you were judging the workers at Kitty’s.”
“Fuck you,” I seethed, feeling the anger I put aside as we escaped bubble up. “You betrayed me! You were the reason I was even there.”
His head tipped back, peering down at me, his nose flaring.
“Why did you give me to him to only help me escape?”
His jaw rolled.