Page 50

THE HOLLOW

16

Solestia

YVESWICH, STATE OF KER

Roman Devlin might kill her.

Shay had come to terms with this simple truth the moment she’d opened the passenger’s-side door of his car and got inside. For her sister, she would risk it—would risk death at the hands of one of the deadliest Darkslayers in the state of Ker.

Anna had always been the safe one, the logical sister who calculated how high up she was before making a jump. Shay was different in all the worse ways. She was reckless and stupid—flaws, maybe, but without them she wouldn’t stand a chance at following through on this plan that was both reckless and stupid.

The plan involving the raincloud of a Darkslayer in the driver’s seat. How in the gods’ names had she managed to get this far? She decided it was best not to question it, and instead concentrate on making sure it lasted—and keeping herself alive. She was no good to her sister if she wound up dead.

What would Anna think if she saw her now?

Shay buckled her seatbelt. “If you keep glaring at me, your face is going to get stuck like that,” she warned.

Roman was indeed glaring at her. She met that glare with a narrowing of her own eyes.

After a few seconds that felt like years, he put the car in drive and sped out of the parking lot of the mechanic shop. The momentum flattened Shay’s spine against the leather seat. It was very clean in here—no gum wrappers on the floor, no takeout cups tossed into the back seat, no dog hair from volunteering at the local animal shelters. It was…too clean. Maybe he was a psychopath.

As Roman sped through the neutral districts of Yveswich, Shay gripped the bottom of her seat with both hands, leading him to believe she was afraid of his daredevil speed, when in reality she was keeping her hands closer to the weapons concealed on her person.

“I need to stop at home and get my bag,” she said. She had her most important things in the purse by her feet—medication, phone, wallet—but she had no extra sets of clothes, no toothbrush, no sanitary products for her time of the month, which was unpredictable at best and nonexistent at worst.

Roman said nothing. Seconds ticked by, and he still didn’t speak.

She decided to hold her tongue and give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d stalked her longer than she thought, and he already knew where her apartment was. She wouldn’t doubt it; rumor claimed there wasn’t a living thing Roman couldn’t find.

She stared through the windshield, watching the highway get eaten up by the tires as he wove through lanes of traffic, across and under overpasses, and past multiple waterfalls.

But she couldn’t keep quiet any longer as he veered away from the city and took the exit onto the interstate.

She shot him a look of accusation, but he spared her nothing—not even that tic in his jaw made an appearance. “Ahem—excuse me. Did someone stuff cotton in your ears or something? I said I need to get my bag.”

Again, she was met with silence. She was about to repeat herself another time when he spoke.

“I think it’s best if you keep quiet for most of this trip.”

“Why?”

His hand tightened on the wheel and twisted, making the hard muscles in his biceps bulge. “Because if you pluck my last nerve, Shay, I am going to kill you.” He speared her with a hard look. “And I don’t have many nerves left that you haven’t touched yet.” He turned on the radio and cranked the volume. “I like music, and I like silence.” His words were barely audible over the noise. “When I choose music, I expect whoever I’m with not to talk. And when I choose silence, I mostly prefer whoever I’m with not to talk. Think you can handle keeping your mouth shut unless it’s to tell me where to go?”

“I just told you to go to my apartment and you didn’t listen!” she shouted.

“Your apartment?” Oh hell. The curious tone of his question told her he had no idea about the apartment.

She broke eye contact and stared straight ahead. “There you go with your parroting again,” she muttered. The noise pounding through the speakers was giving her a headache. “Your taste in music sucks, by the way.” It was a lie—she liked this band, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that—especially not when that tic in his jaw amused her so much.

“Shay,” he warned.

“We need to get to Motel 58.”

He lowered the volume—just a bit. “Where is it?”

“About a four-hour drive.” It was a lie—the drive would take closer to eight, but she wasn’t about to admit that. She’d already pushed her luck as it was, and if she managed to make it all the way through the desert and to Motel 58 without being thrown out of the vehicle, she would be surprised.