-Blake West:
It happened so fast I couldn't even think.
The moment the car screeched, the moment the motorcycle hit the asphalt, the moment I heard that horrible, cracking sound—like bones and metal colliding in one tragic symphony—it all crashed into me in one breathless, disorienting rush.
"Larkin!" I shouted, already throwing the door open before the car even fully stopped. "Larkin, oh my god, oh my god—"
He was already out, his police instincts kicking in faster than my legs could carry me. The second I reached the motionless figure on the ground, my lungs gave out a horrible scream I didn't even know I had in me.
"ZADE!"
The helmet was cracked. His jacket was torn. There was blood—too much blood, leaking down his temple, soaking into the street like some cruel red painting.
I dropped to my knees beside him. "Zade—Zade, no, no, no, no—"
