Page 18

B ullseye

Bullseye gripped the Trans Am's steering wheel and forced himself to breathe normally as they pulled back onto the highway.

The mating bond was like a constant knife in his chest, getting worse with every mile they put between him and Hazel, but he was determined to push through it.

He'd completed impossible runs before. He could complete this one.

"You look like hell," Snowman's voice crackled through the CB radio.

"I'm fine," Bullseye replied, though his knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "Just focused on the job."

"Uh-huh. And that's why your magic is sparking off your dashboard like a broken power line?"

Bullseye looked down to see blue-white sparks dancing across the Trans Am's interior. He forced his magic back under control with visible effort.

"The job comes first," he said, as much to himself as to Snowman. "It always has."

"Right. Tell that to the mating bond that's currently trying to turn you inside out."

"The mating bond is a distraction," Bullseye said through gritted teeth. "I'll deal with it after we make the delivery."

The pain flared worse, like his magic was rebelling against his own words. He pushed it down and focused on the road ahead. New York was still hours away, but they were making good time. If they kept this pace, they'd make the deadline with time to spare.

"Bull," Snowman's voice was gentler now, "you know this is crazy, right? That woman is your mate. You can't just ignore—"

"I can and I will," Bullseye cut him off. "She made her choice. She went back to her fiancé instead of staying with me. End of story."

"She went back because she was hurt and angry, not because she wanted to."

"Doesn't matter why. What matters is completing the contract."

But even as he said it, Bullseye could feel the bond pulling at him like a fishhook in his chest. Through the connection, he could sense Hazel's misery, her despair, her complete loss of hope. It was making his own magic erratic, interfering with his concentration.

They drove in silence for the next hour, eating up miles on the interstate.

The Trans Am purred beneath him, responsive as always, but Bullseye couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Not just the mating bond—though that was agony—but something else.

Something about the cargo, about the whole situation.

He kept thinking about Hazel's face when she'd seen the Bond Buster crates. The horror, the betrayal, the complete loss of faith in him. And underneath that, the terror at the thought of losing Hopper the way thousands of other witches were about to lose their familiars.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, pressing harder on the accelerator. The speedometer climbed past ninety, then one hundred. Speed had always been his escape, his way of outrunning problems. But the faster he drove, the worse the bond seemed to get.

His CB radio crackled. "Breaker one-nine, this is Moondog. Y'all better slow it down out there. Word is the Smokies are setting up a speed trap about ten miles ahead of your position."

"Copy that, Moondog," Bullseye replied, easing off the gas. "Much obliged."

"No problem, good buddy. Oh, and Bull? You might want to check your six. Got some interesting traffic coming up behind you."

Bullseye glanced in his rearview mirror and saw a vehicle approaching fast. Very fast. It was some kind of modified ambulance, painted in racing stripes and moving like it had rocket boosters instead of an engine.

As he watched, the ambulance pulled into the left lane and began to pass him. Not just pass—blow by him like he was standing still. Bullseye looked at his speedometer. He was doing ninety-five miles per hour, and this ambulance was passing him like he was driving a golf cart.

"What the hell?" he said, grabbing his CB radio. "Breaker one-nine, this is Bullseye calling the souped-up meat wagon. Come back."

The radio crackled with a deep, gravelly voice that sounded distinctly orcish. "That's a big 10-4, Bullseye. This here's JJ, and I got my hammer down trying to make some time."

"JJ, this is Bullseye. Mind if I ask what's got you in such a hurry? Because you just passed me doing at least one-twenty."

"Aw, hell, you're Bullseye Maverick?" The orc's voice perked up with interest. "The Bullseye? Well, I'll be damned. I'm just out here practicing for the Cauldron Ball Run next month. Figured I'd test my rig against some of the local traffic."

"Cauldron Ball Run?"

"Cross-country magical vehicle race. Winner takes home fifty thousand gold pieces and bragging rights. You ever think about entering? I bet that Trans Am of yours could give my bus a run for its money."

Despite everything, Bullseye felt a flicker of professional interest. "Maybe. Though right now I'm kind of busy with a delivery."

"Yeah, I heard about that. Sorry to hear about your trouble, by the way."

"What trouble?"

"Your lady getting married and all. Real shame, that. Heard she was a nice witch."

Bullseye's blood turned to ice water. "What did you say?"

"Your girl. Hazel something-or-other. Word on the trucker network is she's getting hitched today up in Niagara Falls. Marrying some bear sheriff's boy. Figured you knew, what with you two being an item and all."

The world seemed to tilt sideways. Through the CB static, Bullseye could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"She's getting married? Today?"

"That's what I heard. Big fancy ceremony, lots of supernatural law enforcement in attendance. They're saying it's the wedding of the century up there."

"When?" Bullseye's voice came out as a croak.

"Supposed to start at sunset, from what I heard. Though hell, that's just trucker gossip. Could be wrong."

Bullseye looked at the dashboard clock. It was already late afternoon. If the ceremony was at sunset, and they were still hours away from New York...

"JJ," he said urgently, "where exactly in Niagara Falls?"

"Some fancy chapel on the American side, right near the falls. The Chapel of Eternal Commitment, I think they called it. Why, you thinking about crashing a wedding?"

Bullseye was already calculating distances and drive times in his head. Niagara Falls was technically in New York, which meant delivering the cargo there would still fulfill the letter of his contract with the dragons. And if he could get there before sunset...

"Snowman," he called over the CB, "you copy this conversation?"

"Every word," Snowman replied grimly. "And before you ask, yes, I can make it to Niagara Falls by sunset if we push hard."

"What about the cargo?"

There was a pause. Then Snowman's voice came back, quieter than before.

"Bull, I got to ask you something. Are you planning to deliver that Bond Buster to the dragons so they can destroy thousands of magical bonds like yours?

Or are you planning to stop a wedding because you finally figured out what really matters? "

The question hit Bullseye like a physical blow.

The mating bond flared in his chest, carrying echoes of Hazel's pain, her desperation, her complete loss of hope.

He thought about the trailer full of Bond Buster, designed to break apart magical families.

He thought about Hazel's face when she'd realized what he was willing to transport for money.

He thought about Hopper potentially losing his intelligence and personality because of cargo Bullseye had agreed to deliver.

And he thought about Hazel walking down the aisle to marry a man she didn't love because she'd given up on the possibility that Bullseye might choose her over dragon gold.

"Dump it," he said quietly.

"What?"

"Dump the cargo," Bullseye said, his voice getting stronger. "All of it. Find a safe place to dispose of the Bond Buster where it can't hurt anyone."

"Bull, that's eighty thousand gold pieces you're talking about."

"I don't care about the money." And as he said it, Bullseye realized it was true. "Snowman, I need you to dump that cargo and meet me in Niagara Falls. There's a wedding I need to stop."

"Now you're talking," Snowman said with obvious relief. "I'll find a place to neutralize the Bond Buster safely. You go get your girl."

"JJ," Bullseye called over the CB, "you still there?"

"Still here, Bullseye. That was quite a conversation."

"Any chance you could give me some pointers on the fastest route to Niagara Falls? Because I've got a wedding to crash and not much time to do it."

The orc's laughter boomed through the radio. "Now that's more like it! Tell you what, Bullseye—follow my ambulance. I know every shortcut, back road, and speed trap between here and Niagara Falls. We'll get you there in time."

"You'd do that?"

"Hell yes, I'd do that. Love conquers all, even bad traffic. Besides, I always wanted to see if my bus could outrun the famous Bullseye Maverick."

"JJ, you're about to find out that nobody outruns me when I'm chasing my mate."

Bullseye downshifted and floored the accelerator. The Trans Am shot forward like a rocket, its enhanced engine roaring with the sound of controlled thunder. The speedometer climbed past one hundred, then one-ten, then one-twenty.

For the first time since Hazel had walked away from him, the mating bond didn't hurt.

Instead, it hummed with purpose, pulling him toward his destination like a magical compass.

He could feel Hazel through the connection—her sadness, her resignation, her broken heart.

But underneath that, something else. A tiny spark of hope that she was trying desperately to suppress.

Hold on, he thought, pushing the Trans Am even harder. I'm coming.

Behind him, Snowman's voice crackled over the CB: "Breaker one-nine, this is Snowman. Just want to say, Bull—I'm proud of you. Now go get married properly this time."

"Copy that, Snowman. And thanks."

"Don't thank me yet. Thank me after you convince her to take you back."

Bullseye grinned, the first genuine smile he'd felt since watching Hazel drive away with Sheriff Lawman. The bond between them was getting stronger as he drove toward her, and he could swear he felt her heart skip a beat, like some part of her knew he was coming.

"JJ," he called over the CB, "I hope that ambulance of yours is as fast as you think it is."

"Faster," the orc replied. "But the question is—are you?"

"Only one way to find out."

The two vehicles raced through the afternoon, eating up miles of highway as the sun began its descent toward the horizon.

Bullseye had never driven harder, never needed to reach a destination more desperately.

The mating bond pulled him forward like a lifeline, and for the first time since this whole mess started, he knew exactly what he was supposed to do.

He was going to get to Niagara Falls before sunset. He was going to stop that wedding. And he was going to spend the rest of his life making up for being stupid enough to almost lose the best thing that had ever happened to him.

The Trans Am roared through the growing dusk, carrying its driver toward love, redemption, and the most important delivery of his life.