Page 80 of Then We Shatter

Now is my forever moment, and there’s so much left unfinished. But that’s the thing about life. It rarely ends on a neat chapter that ties up all the loose threads of a person’s existence. It ends mid-sentence. At least I got to tell Katarina I loved her. I know she didn’t say it back, but she said it in so many other–

Chapter 30

Katarina

Now

Iplant my feet deeper into the waterlogged lawn, desperate for the traction I need to win the race with Eric’s motorcycle. Rain pelts my face, my arms, my trembling legs and I know I’m slowing. I know I’m fucking slowing, but I won’t stop. I can’t.

Is this how Kira felt when she made her break for freedom? Am I going to be gunned down too? Or will I suffer the same fate as Yana? Erased without trace once Eric tires of me and Vasili’s got what he wants from the deal.

Sasha could be the one to survive us all. Her acts of resistance haven’t been enough to free her from Grigor, and the men he occasionally shares her with, but she made a difference. She made a difference to me. I have to keep going. I have to believe I can survive too, but with the fading light and sheets of rain, it’s hard to tell where the land ends and the ocean begins.

My gasps for air grow more desperate with each hard-fought-for step. I’m not getting any nearer the edge, unless we’re talking orgasms because my goddamn egg vibrator is working overtime.

Above the roar of the storm and the engine closing in on me, I hear a shot ring out. If I’m hit, I don’t feel it, and I keep running. Unfortunately, Eric is just as determined. His Ducati is right behind me.

“Kitty!”

His yell is loud enough to send a shiver down my spine.

Enjoy the ride.

I know Sasha better than anyone. She chooses her words carefully. It’s how our friendship has gone undetected for so long. Her last comment was meant to convey a message, but I can’t concentrate with this damn vibrator turning my insides to liquid lava. It’s vibration drills down to my core. How did it switch on by itself? Is it even possible? The only one who could activate it remotely was Killian.

“Kitty!” he yells and my broken heart thunders in my chest. “Will you not look at me?”

My legs almost buckle and my arms flail.

No.

It can’t be.

It can’t.

It just can’t…

Sasha’ voice plays on repeat in my mind. Enjoy the ride.

A shadow looms on my right and the front wheel of Eric’s Ducati appears in my periphery. An arm stretches across the chasm between us. A distance that was supposed to be impossible to cross.

He doesn’t grab me. He waits for me to take a leap of faith.

I mastered the art of mounting a moving bike at Grigor’s training camp, but never in conditions as poor as this. Sasha thinks I can do it, and she might be right because I’ve never wanted to mount a bike or its rider as much as I do now.

I reach out and as I grip the forearm of the man pursuing me, he holds onto me and I know he won’t let go. I make myself ignore the jolt of electricity his touch sends down my spine and use the last of my strength to speed up as he slows the bike. I time my strides so I can spin in an arc and catapult myself upwards. When I’m off the ground, the rider jerks me towards him and I swing my leg up and over the Ducati. I land on the gas tank and come face to face with a ghost.

A trembling arm presses me close. “Hello, lovely.”

Killian McConkey’s smile is the opposite of angelic. He isn’t heaven sent, but I don’t care if he’s come gift wrapped from the devil himself. I’d sell my soul for this man if I had one.

“Don’t talk to me!” I say on a shaky breath, clinging onto him so tight I could squeeze the life out of him.

I can’t process what’s happening. I don’t dare. But as I straddle the only man I could ever give my heart to, the truth hits me anyway. He’s alive. Shorty is alive.

His deep, throaty, self-satisfied chuckle vibrates up through my chest where my heart beats so fast it’s ready to explode. I can’t afford to fall apart. There’s a host of Eric’s men pursuing us. Most are on foot and a safe enough distance away, but emerging from the gloom is a man on a motorcycle. He’s wearing a tuxedo. Eric’s joined in the race.

“Gun!” I demand, letting go of Killian long enough to slip my shaking hand inside his bullet proof vest.