Zeke finally answers, “Bro, what time is it?”
“Morning,” I tell him, and I hear shuffling and a door open and close.
“Barely, asshole. You better have a good reason for waking me at this ungodly hour!” I chuckle.
“I do, I just spoke to Regan. Something is going on with Dad, and Slavic took Malachi. I was just filling you in.”
“That gutless bastard . . . That means he waited until we were gone. We’ll head back to the castle and meet him there,” Zeke growls into the phone.
“No, Regan doesn’t want that. I am heading to you.”
“Wait, you’re coming here? How far out are you?” he asks, yawning.
“Not far, about an hour away. How’s Zirah?” I ask.
“She’s sleeping,” he answers. I know she marked him. I could feel her desire in the bond and I felt his presence alongside hers. It reminds me of the blood bond I share with my brothers, but not feeling Regan is like losing your comfort blanket as a kid. He’s always been the first one to pick up on our anger and fears while keeping his tightly locked away until it bursts like it did earlier.
I knew she would find out about Regan not learning from his sins, though I am slightly surprised Zeke let her see his. I suppose it would be hard to explain the horrors of the mine shaft if she hadn’t seen Zeke’s kingdom for herself. His sins have warped into some twisted version of a virtue.
“Wait. She just woke up,” Zeke says into the phone.
“I’m almost to your kingdom. I am only about an hour and a half out, if that, but I am about to hit the dead service area, so I’m going to hang up before I lose you,” I tell him, knowing how bad the reception is on this side of the mountain.
“Righto, I will see you soon,” Zeke says just as the phone beeps, and I lose cell service like expected. As I set down my phone, the driver hits the brakes, and the car jolts.
“What’s going on?” I ask the driver, Tony, as our car slows to a crawl. My attention moves to the warning signs flashing in the morning light.
“Roadwork, My King,” he grumbles. The car crawls along, testing my patience. When the driver mumbles something under his breath, I turn toward him, my curiosity piqued.
“A little louder for the people in the back,” I probe, straining to catch his words. Tony motions outside with his eyes focused on the road ahead. However, I don’t see any roadwork or workers anywhere.
“We’re driving at a snail’s pace, sir, but I don’t see any roadwork,” he grumbles. I lean forward, scanning the road beyond the windshield. The car inches around a sweeping bend only for us to be confronted by a massive truck blocking our path.
“Would it kill ’em to put the signs a bit closer?” Tony complains. “We’ve been at a reduced speed for over five miles,” he mutters, shaking his head.
“Probably a safety thing,” I tell him. The car is forced to come to a stop as we wait for traffic control to let us through. I return my attention back to my phone, quickly texting Zeke that I might be late because of the roadwork.
The sharp ping of a notification draws my eyes down to find my message never sent, and I curse. Still no cell service.
“Hey, Tony, do you have cell service? Can I borrow your phone?” His only reply is a strangled grunt making me look up to see Tony falling forward on the steering wheel. “Are you okay?” I ask.
When he doesn’t respond, I shake him, and his head rolls to the side, his lifeless eyes staring back at me. There’s a bullet hole in the center of his forehead, and his limp body falls into the steering wheel. The car revs loudly. A rush of adrenaline courses through me as I realize his foot is still pressing the accelerator.
The car lurches forward, and I dive over the seats to push Tony to the side and grab the steering wheel. I’m too slow, and we crash into the side of the truck, grazing the guardrail instead. The car screeches as it picks up more speed, and I try to focus on steering, but I’m unable to maneuver Tony out of the seat.
When the car jerks back onto the road, I lose my grip on the steering wheel and am tossed back into the backseat. We’ve straightened slightly, but we are on the bend and heading straight for the ditch. I lunge for the door handle, but the child-lock is on. The car smashes through the guardrail and plows into a tree.
Panic seizes me as I hurtle through the windshield, shards of glass slicing my arms and face. I barely have time to register what’s happened before I pass out, sprawled in a ditch with the coppery taste of blood flooding my mouth.
When I come to, every inch of me throbs, and agony courses through my limbs as my head pounds.
Opening my eyes, all I see is smoke and tree branches, making me wonder how long I’ve been unconscious. Eventually, I muster the strength to roll over. Looking around, I see the car is a twisted wreck, and it gradually dawns on me that the driver has been murdered right in front of my eyes.
My breath comes in short gasps as I try to get to my feet, only I fall backward as vertigo washes over me. Sitting up, I hear an engine nearby and know that whoever shot Tony must be coming back for me too.
My body aches as I attempt to get onto my hands and knees, but one arm isn’t working properly. It is bent in the wrong direction, and I rip it back into place. The protruding bone forced back beneath my skin is a grotesque sight as I watch the wound close.
The crunch of gravel nearby draws my attention to a pair of boots approaching. As they come closer, I lift my head higher and find myself looking into the cold eyes of a vampire. His sneer is full of anger as he stares down at me.
