Page 79 of Envy

The cop cars zoom past, dust kicking up in their wake before they swing back onto the road. They race toward us from behind as the black SUV stops, blocking our path forward.

“We could split up,” Dominic says as our group slows. “Bike into the desert until we find a way to lose them.”

“No,” I cut in as we ease to a stop, our group pinned between them. “It’s flat for miles. We’ll be too easy to pick off.”

“They haven’t shot us yet,” Mavros chimes in, hand twitching like he’s considering reaching for his gun.

“Best not to tempt them,” Adrian murmurs, turning his bike to face the cop cars behind us. Dominic and Bane do the same. Erik, Noctis, and Mavros take the front. Leaving me in the middle. I don’t like hiding behind my brothers, but Evie is safest here. And her life is more important than my ego.

“Movement,” Dominic calls, snapping my attention to the car on the left.

“Maybe I spoke too soon,” Adrian says. “Should we put our hands up or reach for our guns?”

“Morana is with them,” I bite back, wishing just as badly as my brothers that this had gone a different way. “Don’t draw your weapons unless forced to.”

I switch the mic so only Evie can hear me, my hands clamping over hers. “If they open fire, you ride south until you hit Highway Forty. You take that back to the fifteen. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she protests, the conviction in her voice cracking something in my chest.

“I need you to, little fox.” My tongue is heavy, emotion clogging my throat, but I force the words out. “I need you to run, because if anything happens to you, it’s over for me. You are my purpose. My life. My entire fucking heart.”

I hear the tears in her voice, and as much as it pains me not to be able to kiss her, to fuck her until she forgets all the horrible shit in this world, I’m glad for the helmet hiding her from view. Because it allows me to imagine her happy and whole. Which is the only fucking way I’m able to swing my leg off the bike and walk toward the two men stepping out of the SUV, their guns trained on me.

I flip up my visor as I switch my comm to include my brothers again, and lift my chin. I glare at the one closest, recognizing him as the same man who carried Morana out of that garage.

“You took my sister,” I say, my voice dripping with the promise of blood. “I intend to take her back.”

54

EVIE

Idon’t care what Silas says. If he’s taken or shot, I’m riding straight for the bastards and doing as much damage as I can. My fingers flex over the throttle, sweat soaking my brow inside the helmet as I watch two men get out of the second cop car, joining the ones already aiming guns at Silas.

But they don’t shoot, even after Silas issues his threat. Instead, they appear to be communicating through earpieces. It’s a quick exchange, and then the one nearest Silas lowers his gun.

“If you’re Arthur’s men,” the cop warns, “I’ll bury you in the sand and leave only your heads exposed for the vultures and ants to feast on.”

“Who the fuck is Arthur?” Erik asks through our mics.

“I don’t know.” Noctis’s response is clipped, the tension in his voice mirrored in the white-knuckled grip on his handlebars.

Silas shakes his head. “I don’t give a fuck who your little pissing contest is between. I want my sister returned. I want Morana.”

The man in front holds Silas’s gaze for a long moment,seeming to stare right through him, before signaling to the others. They move instantly, opening the back door of the SUV. A short woman with dark curly hair hops out, shooting a glare at the nearest cop as she brushes off her stained nightgown. The fabric is torn, the once-silky material marred, but the confidence she carries herself with is that of a queen, not someone stepping out of captivity.

She’s been gone for years, stolen and sold to the worst kinds of people, but toned muscle covers her body, hardening her small curves, and there’s a healthy glow to her tanned skin. More than anything, her deep green eyes are warm. Not broken or hollow—but alive.

“Silas?” I ask, not sure if this is really her.

“Morana.” His voice is a disbelieving whisper, the closest I’ve come to hearing him cry. He tugs off his helmet, letting it topple to the ground as she takes a few tentative steps forward and then launches into his arms.

The rest of the Seven tense, ready to draw their weapons at the first sign of Morana’s abductors trying to stop her. But the cops don’t move.

“They’re discussing something,” Noctis says. “The SUV is turning around.”

I tear my gaze from a grinning Silas and Morana, catching sight of the SUV speeding down I-15, heading toward Vegas.

“They’re leaving,” I breathe. “If Morana is really in danger, why would they leave?”