Page 41 of Shadowed With Fear

He rolls his eyes, and I punch him again, my hand fitting perfectly in the socket of his eye.

“Touch her, and you’ll wish you were fucking dead. Do you understand?”

I release him, and he laughs through body wrecking coughs.

“Crystal clear, bro. By the way, next time you should ask for a safe word.” He slaps a hand to my back, grinning, and walking off.

What the fuck?

I stare after him. As he rounds a corner, I pull out my phone, typing Alex’s number.

“My wittle Shadow. How can I help you this fine evening?”

“Ethan Cochrane. Lives on 4749 Pine Ave. I want everything you got on him. And do it quick.”

“Oookay. Gotcha. Whatever the fuck that means. Text me the address again, I’ll get a file to you when I can.”

“Thanks, Alex.”

“Hey! What did I say about the goddamn code names?”

I roll my eyes. “Thank you, Maul.” And I hung up.

* * *

I’m not speeding down Main. But I’m not going slow either. In the back of my mind, I can only think of getting to Dahlia as soon as fucking possible. This Ethan dude, he’s a fucking character. I don’t like him. I don’t like his vibes.

There’s something there, I just don’t know it yet. It might be tied to the drug scheme we’ve been following trying to get answers about Brahm’s mom, or something completely different. But either way. It’s something.

I’m turning the corner on 22nd street, when a van speeds passed me. Like I said. I’m not speeding, but this guy definitely fucking is.

It’s a dark gray, almost black. And that’s when I realize it’s the same van from the school.

Whoever is driving must be in a rush to get home after work.

But the thought stops there.

In the window on the back door, a girl comes into view. She’s moving frantically. Pounding on the glass, mouth agape like she’s screaming, but I can’t hear anything over the rush of wind.

I glance down at the van’s bumper, searching for tags, license number, anything. But there’s nothing there.

My hand tugs at the zipper on my jacket, grasping for my phone.

“Hello?”

“Alex. Alex. Make a fucking call, now. I’m on 22nd heading east. There’s a dark gray van, possible abduction.”

He curses and I can hear him running through his apartment. “Okay, are you tailing them?”

“Yeah, but this guy is driving like fucking crazy. Get someone here now!” I yell over the window, trying to stay steady with one hand gripping the handle.

I faintly hear the line click. I shove it back into my jacket, leaning closer to the bars, hitting the gas. I get right up to the back of the van, the girl is screaming, crying, pounding her fists against the glass. And there’s nothing I can fucking do but watch as they round the curve ahead. I try. I really do, but a car cuts me off, and I slide. Hard.

My bike skids across the pavement, sparks shootings behind it as I roll to the side of the road.

“Grayson?” A voice calls from the car window. A guy is behind the wheel, brown hair pushed across his forehead.

“Issac?”