Page 53 of Always A Villain

Goddamnit. We don’t have time for this.

I tear off my helmet, ripping the skull mask from my face in one swift motion, throwing it to the ground. Her teary eyes widen in shock.

“What?” Her voice is fragile, confused.

“You need to run—NOW!”

He’s the masked man.

No.

This can’t be real.

I stare, frozen for a second, as the truth slams into me.

“RUN!” he shouts again, his gaze flicking past me, frantic.

But the confusion, the pain—gone. All that’s left is rage. I force myself up, biting back a scream as pain shoots through me. Blood trickles down my legs, scrapes sting, but I don’t care.

“GO!” His voice cracks, fists pounding against the bike, but he’s trapped.

“Fuck you, Axe!”

“GO, NOW!” he screams, and all I see is red.

“No! I’m going to kill you myself!” I step closer, fist clenched.

“NOW! Fucking run, or I swear to god, I’ll fucking shoot you!”

I storm toward him, ready to rip his head off. The roar of motorcycles fills the street, but I barely hear it through the rage.

“Run, Rory!” His voice softens, pleading now. “Please...”

“Fuck you!” I shout, shoving the bike with everything I’ve got. He doesn’t get to die by anyone else's hands.

“Please! FUCK! GO!”

“No!” My scream tears through me. “Help me push!” I snap, not giving him a second. His eyes flare with rage.

“What the fuck?” he hisses, glaring at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Help me fucking push, asshole!”

He grits his teeth, muscles straining as he heaves against the weight of the bike. Metal screeches, grinding forward. His face twists in pain, leg pinned beneath the bike, but he shoves again. The engines roar louder, vibrating through the street.

“Push harder!” I yell. His jaw clenches, veins bulging as he forces the bike free.

The second he’s up, he roughly grabs my arm.

“We have to go, now!” he snaps through the chaos, but I rip my arm free, glaring. He shoots me a look and shoves me toward the curb, like I’m some helpless victim.

Not a chance in hell.

“Get the fuck off me!” I shove back, every nerve ending on fire with his betrayal.

“Move your ass,” he growls, and when I don’t, he pushes me harder toward a building. “If you don’t start moving, I’ll throw you over my shoulder.”

I glare daggers at him, but he just shoves me again—the nerve. If I die now, I won’t get the chance to kill him.