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I hear a clink, and the sound of a lighter flick, and I smirk, looking right into Marcus’s eyes. I know he heard the noise as well because his eyes flick away from me for the briefest second.

Marcus’s mouth opens like he’s about to talk, but it’s cut off when we all hear the whoosh of a flamethrower. His head snaps over to the noise, and Viktor stands in the doorway with the largest flamethrower known to man in his hands.

I can see his mouth wide open, telling me he’s laughing, but the sound of the fire drowns it. The red lights from the fire dance across his skin, making him look fucking terrifying.

All the men scram like the cockroaches they are. They all flank the door that Viktor is standing at, which was the dumbest fucking thing ever. I’m used to this. Viktor loves his fire. I just moved to a corner, staying there as Viktor burns everyone in the room to a crisp.

Once the flamethrower dies down, I can hear his laugh more clearly, sounding like he’s completely fucking insane. All the men around me are pretty much cremated, along with the room besides the little spot I’m standing in. I look around the crowd on the floor, hoping Marcus is still alive.

I find him under one of his men. “He’s fucking dead, Viktor,” I growl, standing up and looking at my manic brother standing in the doorway. His fun expression is wiped away by my complaints.

“Oh, Dmitri. The man wasn’t going to help, and you know it.” Fair point. “Speaking of Dmitri, maybe it’s time to take the mask off.” His tone is softer this time. Marcus wasn’t going to live past this meeting either way, I wish we could’ve talked for a little longer.

Looking down at my feet and the burnt bodies around me, the black bones poking out from the burned-away skin. “Viktor, I don’t know if this life is for me.” I look back up at him, and he looks surprised. Like he doesn’t know that I never wanted this, but he does know.

“You think of handing it to me, old man?” He taunts, a brotherly smile growing on his face. Right now isn’t the time to think about this shit. I have someone who needs to be taught a lesson. She got a man killed because he touched something that’s mine.

I take my mask off, throwing it on Marcus’s face. I look up at Viktor and say one word before walking out the door.

“Maybe.”

*This book is an advance reader copy and is to not be distributed anywhere. [email protected]*

24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Watermelon - John & Jane Q.

Penelope

I pull out of the gates of what I learned is called Willow’s Manor, known as the manor. The long road leading to it is completely rocky, and I fucking hate it. I want this shit paved, so I don’t have fucking pebbles hitting my ankles.

I pull onto the highway leading to New York, wanting to go shopping at my favorite mall. They also have the most amazing candy store that I have bought way too much from. Riot gave me a card to use, so goddammit, I’m going to use it. I know it’s January, but there’s no snow right now, and the roads are clear of ice. It’s colder than Riot’s heart out here, so fucking freezing.

I’m wearing full riding gear, plus a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie over that. Am I going to sweat my ass off in the mall? Yes. Will I be getting my favorite candy in bulk? Also yes. I won’t be in the mall for more than thirty minutes.

My backpack holds my wallet and bags of marbles to weigh it down while I ride. My phone sits on a holder that’s centered on the bike. Whenever a notification pops up, I see that green mask staring at me. I haven’t changed my background, and I don’t know if I want to.

I cruise along the highway, weaving through traffic aimlessly. At some point, my skin goes numb, so I can just feel the pressure of the wind hitting my skin. Some people honk at me for getting too close. Teenage boys in the backseat of their mom’s car are making a revving motion at me. I do, feeling excitement surge through me when someone likes my bike.

My eyes focus on a Toyota 86 that looks eerily similar to Riot’s. I twist the throttle in more, letting go when I shift into the next gear.

Once I approach the car, matching the pace, sitting up straighter and resting one hand on my thigh. I stare at the car, daring them to roll the window down.

What caught my eye was the replica sticker of Riot’s mask on the bottom corner of his window, just barely brighter than the window color. It was him. What the fuck is he doing in the States? Why is he headed towards New York? Was he at the manor? What the fuck is going on?

Feeling irritated with the thought of him being at the manor and purposely avoiding me, I twist the throttle and take off, shifting gears like butter, reaching 150 mph, weaving through traffic, my body leaning into every tight turn, the adrenaline coursing through my body. Eventually, I hit a decent stretch of road with no cars on it, pushing the bike to its limits.

I feel a presence looming. Looking to my side, I see Riot keeping up next to me with ease. I look at my speedometer, okay then.

I haven’t tried reaching the top speed, but now is the time. Shifting into the last gear the bike offers, I twist the handle impossibly more, the numbers crawling slowly. Riot, keep steady next to me.

That’s until I give one more twist, the bike screaming for mercy as I lurch forward, leaving Riot behind. Whether he couldn’t keep up or he slowed down, I fucking win.

A ringing sound sounds throughout the helmet, signaling a call. I hit the button on my Cardo, answering the call but not saying anything, having a suspicion of who is on the other line. “Slow down, Moss.” His voice is dark, deeper than ever. I’m ashamed to admit the tremor that racks my body, the emotions swirling up.

“You’re an asshole.” Those are the only words I tell him before pressing the same button, hanging up the call, but slowing down slightly. I don’t see him again after that, as I don’t look behind me, but I know he’s there.