Page 39 of Martyr (Sterling Falls Rogues #3)

This might be the most fun I’ve had in ages.

I’ll have to reevaluate my definition of fun later—but for now, as I hit the gas and my bike vibrates beneath me, I can’t help but smile.

No one will know.

It’s been for-fucking- ever since I’ve been on a bike, and it was fate that the repair shop was just two blocks down from Bow & Arrow.

When Reese left to retrieve his truck, I took Saint and Kade down to the mechanic’s.

It was all boarded up, metal grates pulled down over all the doors, but…

well, he probably forgot he used to leave a spare key in a fake rock at the back of the building for me.

Because I used to regularly have issues with my bike. Or my brother’s. And the one thing Apollo was very firm on? If I broke it, I was not going to use Hell Hound resources to fix it.

That’s how I found Jim.

I suspect Jim is long gone, but the key worked for the back door, and there was my bike. It was almost like Jim knew I’d be back for it at some point, because he left a freaking ribbon bow on the seat.

There were two more tucked away, but they seemed to be in working order, so we took those, too. Best-case scenario, they’re Jace’s and Wolfe’s bikes, and Jim just didn’t tag them.

Worst-case scenario, I will have to explain to some random Sterling Falls citizens that their bikes were used to liberate the city. And, uh, pay for further repairs if the bikes survive that long.

Anyway , it’s probably fine. The bikes started up easily. Kade tossed a sweatshirt at me before we left, and I put that on over the Kevlar. He and Reese did the same, upping our inconspicuous vibes. I don’t know if the Cyclopes would give chase if they saw we were dressed for battle.

The excess fabric billows around me, the wind snatching at it with a fierceness that rivals our speed. I push the bike harder and will it to howl through the streets.

Saint and Kade peel away in opposite directions. We’ll stoke the fire as hot as we can—until we can’t anymore.

It doesn’t take long before I find a roadblock. It’s manned by armed men. There are concrete barriers in the road, creating a funnel for just one car at a time to go through—and only when they move their truck out of the way. Ah, well. Narrow enough for me.

I lean forward and gun it.

They shout and wave their guns, attempting to stop me.

I swing the rifle, slung by a strap across my back, to my front. One-handed, I brace the butt on my shoulder and flick off the safety. The spray of gunfire takes them by surprise, and I pepper the side of the truck in a flurry of bullets.

They take cover, and I rip through the roadblock, swerving to navigate the tight turns around the concrete barrier and the truck’s bumper. One Cyclops is too close to the edge—and too close to grabbing me. I kick out and catch him in the jaw, sending him reeling back into another.

And then I’m around the truck and speeding away, laughing all the while.

Too much fun .

They get their shit together and chase after me, but they’re disorganized. They might like exerting power over normal citizens, but they haven’t met their match. Bullies never like a fair fight.

I take a sharp turn, then another, continuing west. I come across another roadblock, but it seems like they’re better prepared.

Maybe they do communicate with each other.

They’re already behind the barriers, their guns aimed.

They open fire as soon as they spot my bike.

I swerve, sparks jumping up on the asphalt in front of me as their bullets make contact, and hop the curb onto the sidewalk.

There’s a cut-through up ahead, maybe thirty yards from the roadblock. It’ll dump me out at the next street over, which sounds like a great idea. Until I get there and see that it, too, has been blocked completely.

Freaking hell .

The gunfire starts up again, and I press my chest to my bike. It’s meant for speed, but the engine whines when I shift gears. I fire back and hit at least two. The rest duck for cover.

They didn’t block the sidewalk completely, and I hold my breath as I aim for the gap.

My handlebar on the left goes over the barrier. The right one scrapes the brick wall. Both sides catch at my pants, the outsides of my knees.

Holy shit.

Almost didn’t make that.

But I do, and I get the fuck out of there.

They keep shooting. Pain spikes across my back. It forces the air from my lungs. I wheeze, the stab of fear at not being able to breathe almost enough for me to slow. But then, I’m able to inhale.

My bike wobbles, but I hold it steady.

Two blocks left.

A streetlight—red for me—glows up ahead. There are trees just beyond it, the forest beyond West Falls hiding a lot of secrets of its own. But it’s also a sign that I’m nearly there.

I approach the last intersection before the light, and I glance over my shoulder. The ones at the roadblock are in the truck, Cyclopes piled in the back and in the cab. The headlights bounce, and it struggles to get up to speed.

I face forward just as another truck— from the first roadblock —comes screaming out of the night on my left.

This is déjà vu, and I don’t like it.

I hit the brakes, and lean back. My momentum lifts my back tire off the ground. The smell of burning rubber fills my nose, and the truck barely misses me. Like, inches. It skids past, but hell if I stick around.

As soon as my back tire hits the asphalt, I’m off again.

There are shouts behind me, the one truck reversing to give chase, the other one blowing their horn to get them to move. It’s a bit of chaos, but that was our goal, right?

With any luck, Kade and Saint are in a similar position. Minus getting shot.

I think I got shot anyway. The adrenaline has blocked out any more pain, and I’m not excited to feel it later.

Ahead, on the road I need to be on, Kade flies by. His head turns, and he automatically slows. I pick up speed and lean into the turn, catching up to him easily.

We didn’t put in the comms or anything. Didn’t warn Jace, Apollo, or Wolfe about our plan. So I take his okay gesture to mean he’s all right, and I nod back. We get to the next street, and suddenly Saint shoots out with three vehicles behind him.

Damn, fine.

We catch up, the three of us in a row, and I check back to see who’s following.

Two from me. Three from Saint. And Kade managed to goad two more into the chase, too.

We just have to survive the next mile.

“Incoming!” Kade roars.

He leans away, his bike crossing the double yellow line. Gunfire opens up behind us. Saint goes in the opposite direction, and I fucking hesitate.

Another burst of pain, but I can’t tell where it came from. My skin is on fire. I groan and cough, and my grip on the handlebars loosens.

No . I shake my head and suck in a breath. No time for passing out or quitting or whatever. We’ve come so far for that to not be the ending.

And then we’re passing Reese’s truck—the designated line of safety.

I brake and swing around, Kade and Saint doing the same.

Albeit, a bit more civilized. Reese steps out from behind the truck with a long-barreled rocket launcher on his shoulder.

He spares me a glance, checks for Saint and Kade, then focuses on the seven approaching vehicles.

They’re spread across the road, three-wide. One in front.

He fires, and the whistle of the rocket launcher is alarmingly loud. It catches the grill of the front vehicle.

It explodes. The back end lifts, the whole thing engulfed in flames, and lands on its roof. A second later, the wall of heat pushes into me. It fades, and I flick my visor up.

“Holy shit.”

“This isn’t over,” Reese warns. “But it’s about to be.”

The other trucks seems to be frozen. If they get away, this is all in vain.

Reese fires again, striking one of the outer vehicles. It jumps off the ground with the force, the ball of fire taking out everyone. It’s then that the others suddenly unstick, their engines revving when they’re put into reverse. They fly backward.

“They’re getting away!”

Reese sets down the rocket launcher and takes his phone from his pocket. He unlocks it and taps the screen, then looks at me.

“No, they’re not,” he says softly.

One by one, bombs along the road go off. It’s a domino effect, and there’s no escaping it. No outrunning it. After the second, I cover my ears. Reese pulls me behind the truck, where Kade and Saint await. I count the vibrations.

Ten.

After a long moment, Reese tugs my hands away from my ears. He goes out and checks the damage. Kade immediately follows.

I share a look with Saint.

This wasn’t part of the plan. The rocket launcher, yes.

“All clear,” Kade says. “Now we see if anyone comes to investigate.”

“And if they do?” Saint asks.

Kade peers into the bed of the truck and withdraws a different rifle. This one is more like the kind a sniper would use. “Then we pick them off.”

Great.

“One quick question.” I clear my throat. “Where did those bombs come from?”

Reese grins. “Um, Gabriel told me where he hid his extras.”

“And where was that?” I shake my head. “Scratch that—you trusted him enough to fetch them and not get blown up in the process?”

“Well, yeah.” Reese shrugs. “They were at Olympus. Guess at one point, his plan was to bring down the building. So in theory, I did you a favor by removing them safely.”

“Right…”

Saint throws his arm around my shoulders. “And she means to say thank you, but also you should’ve brought one of us in case we needed to save your ass from a burning building.”

I nod vigorously. “Yeah. That.”

He laughs. “Okay. Fine. I deserve that.”

“Let’s clear off the road,” Kade says. “Get in the truck in case we need to leave in a hurry.”

I exchange a glance with Reese and Saint. The last time we were all pressed together in his truck… Well, it led to some understandings between us.

Reese gets in the driver’s seat, and Saint circles to the passenger side.

I look at Kade. “What about you?”

He gestures to the bed. “Gonna set this up on the roof of the cab. Don’t worry about me.”

Well… that’s silly. I suck my lower lip between my teeth, and I don’t move. Not until Kade stops what he’s doing and hops down from the bed of the truck. He lands right in front of me.

He reaches out and runs his finger along my trapped lower lip. I release it slowly, and he exhales.

“I will worry about you,” I say to him. “Okay?”

His dark gaze burns, and he visibly swallows. “Okay.”