Page 42 of Satan's Affair

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We nod our agreement, the panic in my veins bleached out and replaced with adrenaline. I don’t know if I’ve ever been in a car before. After I escaped from Daddy’s, I could only walk. I didn’t have money for public transportation, and I refused to get in a car with a stranger.

It was by sheer luck that Satan’s Affair happened to be in town when I got out of the compound.

My hand snaps out, and I grab onto Mortis’s arm before he can walk away. I pull his arm until the length of his body is pressed into mine. He wraps his other hand around the back of my neck and brings me close, until his forehead rests against mine.

“I love you,” I whisper, sliding my lips across his. He presses his mouth tightly against mine.

“I love you, too, baby girl. Be safe and kill them if you need to,” he says before stepping away and rushing off into the maze of hallways.

My lip trembles. My henchmen and I had something good going, and I screwed it all up.

“Let’s go, baby,” Jackal says quietly, ushering me off. We all crowd around the small door right at the foyer. None of the officers are within sight, but there’s no telling where exactly any of them are at the moment

.

A loud crash sounds from above us, followed by a sharp yell.

“Hey! Get back here!”

I let my henchmen out first, the four of them squeezing through the door one at a time. It takes too long for them to file out, but finally I’m coming up behind them and rushing out the main door.

The brittle wind whips me in the face as I race off towards the still-running cop cars. I slip my pretty knife from the strap around my thigh and plunge it into one of the tires. Only for the knife to bounce back. These tires are way thicker than I gave them credit for. I grit my teeth and stab the knife in with all my strength, huffing in victory when it cuts through. I grind my knife against the tread, sweat breaking out across my forehead. A loud whistle pierces my ears as air escapes from the deflating tire.

“Hey!” A shout rings out from behind me. I quickly round the now useless car and head towards the other cruiser. The passenger door is already open and waiting for me, courtesy of Baine, who’s behind the wheel. I dive into the seat and barely shut the door before the car is lurching forward, fishtailing as we take off.

“GET BACK HERE!”

I’m panting hard, my chest heaving as I’m blasted with excitement and a thrill so sharp, I can’t help but let out a squeal of laughter. The car wavers as we tear through the field and onto the main road.

Urgent voices filter in from the radio on the dashboard. Panicked reports of a cop car being stolen and the other sabotaged, along with police jargon I don’t understand. I do hear them say we've gone eastbound and that we're dangerous.

I giggle at the last part.

The rest of my men are piled into the backseat, cramped and uncomfortable, but with delighted smirks on their painted faces.

“You ever been in a car, baby?” Jackal asks from the back, amusement in his tone.

“No,” I breathe, a wobbly smile on my face. Based off the speedometer, we’re going almost 100mph. It’s both exciting and nerve wracking.

The car swerves again, causing me to look over at Baine.

“Have you ever driven a car before?” I question.

I would have assumed so. I never got the opportunity to learn how to drive, but I would’ve thought my men had.

“Yes, but I’ve never been in a fucking car chase before so excuse me if I'm a little nervous.”

I open my mouth to snap back but realize fighting with him will only worsen his driving. So, I close my mouth and let him focus.

The blare of sirens that reverberates from behind us has us all tensing in our seats. Several more sirens follow suit, until it sounds like a stampede of angry cop cars.

“Shit, fucking shit,” Baine curses under his breath.

Blue and red lights flash in the review mirror, drawing closer by the second. Baine stomps on the gas hard, the car dangerously swerving side to side.

“Baine!” I shout. “Keep the fucking car straight!”

“I’m fucking trying!” Sweat pours down his face, his bone white knuckles tightening his grip on the wheel until they turn red.


Tags: H.D. Carlton Dark