His eyes went wide with surprise, and he just stood there. Staring, not at her face, but at her arm.
The one sliced open by the gate. Blood was still dripping onto the pavement, leaving a red trail behind her.
She could feel sweat glistening on her skin. Some of the water had spilled down her shirt, making the thin fabric cling to her body. She was a mess, scraped up, bleeding, and desperate.
She watched him track the steady movement of her throat as she swallowed. Then his gaze flickered up to hers, and his eyes narrowed. It's like he recognized her.
Everything about the moment felt sharp and intense, like a lightning bolt had passed between them. Does he know who she is?
She pressed the half-empty bottle against his chest. "Here." She wiped her lips with her fingers, still trying to catch her breath. Her hand trembled so much she nearly dropped the bottle.
He swallowed hard and took it, his eyes never leaving hers. "Who are you?"
Is he one of them? Why doesn't he recognize her? Before he could say anything else, she pulled his jacket off and slipped it on. It was big and warm, smelling like leather, gasoline, and something familiar she couldn't place.
"That's my jacket! What are you doing? Give it to me, thief!" He reached for it, but she stepped back fast.
"Shut up!" She pulled the utility knife from her pocket and held it to his throat. The cold metal made him freeze. Her hands were shaking, but she forced her voice to stay steady. "Don't move!"
The young man raised both hands slowly. "Are you a thief or are you running from them?" He nodded toward the house, where shouts were getting louder by the second.
"I said shut up!" She snatched the helmet from his grasp, pulled her hair up, and tucked it inside before strapping it on tight.
Through the visor, she saw him stare at her reflection in the motorcycle mirror, not blinking once.
Then his hand moved to his pocket, like he was reaching for something.
"Where'd that girl go?" Several figures came running toward them through the darkness. Flashlights cut through the night, sweeping across the ground.
"Look there! That's her!" Alexander's voice rang out, sharp as a blade. "Elizabeth, stop right there!" His screams made her panic.
"How did he find me so fast?!"
The rider's face twisted with shock and confusion. "Who are those guys? Why are they chasing you? What's with that tattoo on your neck?"
She froze. The tattoo, the one her mother made her get when she was fifteen, a small silver star hidden behind her ear. She'd forgotten it was exposed when she pulled her hair up.
"Drive! Now, hurry up!" She climbed onto the back of the red sportbike and shoved him forward.
Her hand accidentally brushed against his side, and she felt something hard. A gun tucked into his waistband.
"Get off! I don't know you. Don't involve me in your problems!" He tried to push her away, but she held on tight.
"I don't have time to explain it to you." She could feel her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest.
The flashlights were getting closer. She could see Alexander's face now, twisted with rage.
"Hey, I'm not your chauffeur! Don't order me around like that." He gripped the handlebars, but didn't start the engine.
"Hurry up, just drive! Or I swear I'll use this knife!" She was almost screaming now. They were twenty feet away. Fifteen. Ten.
"Alright, please be patient. I'll drive." He paused, then looked back at her with a grin that made her blood run cold. "But what do I get out of getting you out of here? Because I know exactly who you're running from. I know what he does to people who cross him."
She looked at him over her shoulder, knowing she had no other choice. "I'll do anything for you."
He looked at her through the rearview mirror, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then he pulled out a small photo from his pocket and held it up.
It was her, taken a week ago. When she was walking home from college. He'd been following her.
"Prove it to me, dear." He tossed the photo onto the ground and crushed it under his boot. "Swear you'll help me take down him. That's my price."
Their gazes locked in the glass. She knew he could see how desperate she was, but something else too. The anger she'd been holding inside for months. "I will prove it." She meant every word.
"Okay, Princess. Where are you going?" He started the engine with a roar that made the ground shake. "I'm ready to be your personal driver, but my fee isn't money. It's his head and make sure you're ready to keep your promise, beautiful."
She shook her head. "I don't have money to pay you." There was nowhere left for her to go. "I will go wherever you go, but answer me one thing. Who are you, sir?"
He let out a low whistle as they pulled away from the curb. "My name's Arthur, and Victor killed my mother."
"What?!" Elizabeth shock.
"Catch them! Don't let them get away!" Alexander shouted in frustration. His hand had nearly brushed her jacket, but missed as the motorcycle sped ahead.
She could hear their voices echoing from behind them as they tore down the street. Though she couldn't make out every word. The rage in Alexander's tone sent shivers down her spine.
"Boss, where'd they go?" A subordinate rushed over to him, his steps hurried.
"Guys, are you blind? They just passed right in front of you! Go after them, now!" Alexander pointed in the direction the bike had taken, his face flushed red with rage. "Bring me that boy's head too. I don't know who he is!"
The subordinate sprinted toward the waiting motorcycle while Alexander stood staring down the empty road, his expression bitter with disappointment. Suddenly, his phone blared loudly from his pocket.
"Alexander, what's taking so long?! Bring her to me, right now!" Victor's voice was so loud she could almost hear it even from their speeding bike.
Alexander pulled the phone away from his ear. The sound of his boss's voice was sharp enough to sting. "Sir Victor, I'm sorry. She got away with that street punk!"
"What?! How could he possibly have found my girl?!" Victor's voice rose to a scream. "That's impossible!"
"I don't know, sir! I smashed Miss Elizabeth's phone so she couldn't call anyone!"
"You fool, Alex! If you don't catch them before morning, I'll feed you to my dogs! Tell the men, shoot to kill. Both of them!"
"But, Sir. What about the wedding?"
A click sounded as the boss hung up. Alexander clenched the torn piece of her skirt in his hand. The fabric ripped where the dog had bitten it earlier. His face burned bright red, barely containing his fury.
"Elizabeth! I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget as long as you live and you too, street punk! You're dead meat, bastard!"