Page 33 of Viper

“Move, goddammit!” he shouts. “Get the fuck out of my way!”

More cars honk, their blasting horns making my heart race. My scream gets lodged in my throat as the Ferrari speeds down the street, weaving between cars and lanes with precision.

Clyde jerks the wheel, narrowly missing a sedan. “Move!” he barks, whipping us backward into a construction site lot. He whips the SUV around, and my brain jostles, concrete dust billowing in a gray cloud behind us as he slams the car into drive and hits the gas. The tires scream, rocks spitting out, as they fight for purchase, then we shoot forward. I grab the dashboard, looking behind us, my blood rushing to my head, as the Ferrari flies into the lot behind us. The engine revs then it speeds forward.

“Clyde,” I say, dragging out his name as I watch in horror as the car closes the distance.

“Hush,” he hisses, yanking the wheel to round the large building. He stomps on the brake, and I pitch forward. His arm lashes out and catches me just as my seatbelt digs into my chest, keeping me locked in place.

My scream rips free. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Stay here!” Clyde shoves the door open, drawing his gun from the holster at his back just as the black car slams on its brakes, circling us and stopping abruptly, bumper to bumper.

“Clyde,” I say, keeping my eyes on the car. “What is happening?”

“Stay put, Cora!” he screams at me, his eyes locked on the sleek car, gun aimed, finger on the trigger. He sidesteps, moving away from the SUV.

My chest heaves, and I grip my seat belt, shrinking down in my seat. I may be accustomed to Rune and violence, butholy shit, I’ve never been in a fuckingcarchase.

“Step out carefully,” Clyde snarls. “I have no problem unloading my clip into your head if you so much as blink too fast.”

The passenger door swings open. A hand reaches out and grips the doorframe. His bald head and stormy eyes come into view, and a knot forms in my stomach.

Clyde lowers the gun. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Breaker?”

I exhale as I unbuckle then slam the door open, and tumble onto the asphalt, gaze pinned on him across the hood of the cars.

Breaker’s winter gaze locks on me and I grip the doorframe to stay upright. Something dark, angry, and volatile flashes over his features.

“Little Red,” he says.

That’s all he says.

“You scared the shit out of me.” Clyde shoves his pistol back in his holster. “Why are you driving like a lunatic?”

“You know I have no control over him,” Breaker says, his voice deadly calm.

My stomach drops.

Wait.

He’s not the one driving.

The driver’s side door opens, and a black leather combat boot hits the pavement. My heart leaps into my throat. One large, fair-skinned hand slaps down on the top of the car door and a head with wavy auburn hair pops up, followed by massive shoulders and chest wrapped in a black t-shirt. He leans his forearm on the roof of the car, a smile cutting across his face.

My heart stutters.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“Oh, good.” Clyde snorts. “Another one of you assholes to contend with.”

“That was the plan all along,” Breaker says. “Several assholes to contend with.”

I don’t hear Clyde’s response. All I can focus on ishim.

My chin quivers. I swipe at my cheeks with both hands, unable to control the trembling in my shoulders.

He’s here.