A/N

Couldn't do it without Fran, Kate and Pearly, or YOU.

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Chapter Fourteen: Catch and Release

Bella

xXx

"Being suspended is so fucking boring," I whine to Cilian, leaning my head back against my pillow. I'm lying on my bed where I've been drawing all day, but after four days of this, I miss my friends.

"Aw, poor baby," Cilian teases, grinning at me. I smile as I see Jasper's head pop into the camera, leaning against Cilian's shoulder.

"We miss you, Bella," Jasper sings.

Cilian glances down at him, and I have to fight not to raise my eyebrows when he kisses Jasper's head. He's always been that touchy with me, but never anyone else. Excitement bubbles in my gut, but I force myself not to react.

"Are you gonna come to the party tonight, Cygnet?" I hear Alec's voice. The camera flips, and I see him, leaning both elbows on the dining table, his dark eyes playful.

"Definitely," I say, grinning.

Rose sits down at the table next to Alec and lets out a noise, "Bella! Did you call Cilian instead of me, you fucking bitch."

I hear Cilian snort, "Don't be jealous, Rosie; she just loves me more."

Rose scoffs, "Is your name tattooed on her body? I don't think so."

"Letter babe, it's a letter, and I've got something on my body from her too," Cilian says, laughing.

The camera flips to him and Jasper again, and Cilian winks at me, making my cheeks flush.

Jasper grins, "It's a hot tattoo."

"What is it?" Alec asks, his deep voice full of curiosity.

"You should be asking, where is it," Rose cackles.

Cilian grins, and I pout. "I miss you all."

"Jesus, babe, it's only been like three days," Cilian teases.

"She doesn't miss you, asshole; she misses me," Rose declares.

"And me," Alec states.

"Do you miss me?" Jasper asks me, smirking.

"Who do you miss the most?" Rose calls.

I laugh, and I'm about to answer when I look up and find Masen leaning in my doorway. I jump and scream in surprise. "Jesus fucking Christ, Fido. We need to get you a bell. Gotta go, guys." I hang up the phone to the sound of protests and stare at Masen.

He arches a brow at me, "Your father's downstairs."

I search around me and huff frustratedly.

"What are you looking for?" Masen asks, his deep voice irritated.

"Just a fuck to give," I say in a confused voice, "but I can't fucking find one."

Masen's tongue darts out, and he bites it, his green eyes glinting.

I smirk, "You can laugh Fido, I'm pretty fucking funny."

"Hilarious," he says dryly, crossing his arms.

I stare at his ink, biting my bottom lip. He's in some kind of vest, revealing the partial sleeves of his tattoo. It reaches down to his bicep on both sides. Plenty of room to add more, and my head spins at all the possibilities. He's mostly black ink, but I could add some nice colors that would fit with the vibe he already has going on.

I look away quickly. What the fuck am I doing?

"Fuck off, now, Fido," I order him, staring down at my nails.

"He wants to see you."

I grit my teeth. Not because of Masen, but because my fucking father can't bring himself to just walk up the stairs and come to my room himself.

"I don't care," I mutter, not looking at him.

"Isabella, I have to take you down there, you can either walk, or you're being carried."

I lift my head and glare at him. "I know you want your hand's all over me, Fido, but it's a hard fucking no. Don't touch me."

"It's not up to me," Masen drawls.

I scoff. "Tell my father to go fuck himself."

Masen rolls his eyes. "I'm gonna count to five, princess, either walk your ass here, or I'm dragging you downstairs."

I get off the bed, and his eyes immediately drop to my legs. I'm wearing a black T-shirt and a thong, nothing else.

I hum, "Are you going to drag me downstairs in my underwear, Fido?"

Masen's eyes flick up to mine, and he shrugs. "I don't fucking care; if you'd be embarrassed, then get fucking dressed."

I snort, "I don't get embarrassed, Fido, good thing too, because I'd definitely be embarrassed to be seen in public with you."

He meets my eyes, his flashing, "Why? Because people will wonder what a guy as good looking as this would be doing with you?"

I pout playfully, "Mean, Fido." I turn around and bend over to grab my leggings, giving him a view of my ass. "Didn't your momma ever tell you words hurt? I guess she was too busy sucking-"

"Don't," Masen growls. "Don't fucking start."

I turn around and give him an innocent expression, "Start what, Fido?"

He's glaring at me, and I smile, "I can see this is a sensitive subject for you. Let me guess. You clearly have mommy issues...so is it because she was a whore? Is she still one now? Or maybe she didn't want you, and your issues stem from rejection. Is that it, Fido? Do you feel rejected?" I walk right up to him and stare into his eyes. Break Masen, break, and just end this. I lean in closer, my mouth by his ear, "Did you go to prison for hurting someone Fido? Maybe it was her, maybe all that anger just grew and grew, and you took it out on your-"

His large hand wraps around my throat, and I stop breathing. He's not holding me tightly; he's not putting any pressure around me; he's just there. He jerks me back, ever so gently, but when our eyes meet, his are a poisonous green.

Deadly.

"Do it," I order him, daring him with my eyes. "Hurt me and then quit. I can keep talking, Fido. Did you k-"

Masen's fingers squeeze just a little, and I stop talking.

"Listen to me very carefully; you spoiled little bitch. I might seem like I play nice, but I can play dirty too. You think my hands are fucking clean? They're not," he lowers his voice, almost spitting at me. "I won't choke you, even though it would be so fucking easy. I won't hurt you, but only because I need this job and because you're a girl. A stupid, little girl." He glares at me, and I feel a flicker of fear in my belly at the look in his eyes.

I laugh, despite how I feel inside. "Oh, Fido, you don't have the balls, huh?" He looks furious, those green eyes blazing at me as his fingers twitch around my throat.

"Come on," I coax. "You can hurt me, Fido; I won't tell if you promise to leave after."

His eyes narrow suddenly, "Has that happened before?"

My eyes widen in surprise.

"Did. Someone. Hurt. You?" he snaps.

"Of course not," I state, licking my bottom lip as I stare at him. "You can be the first if you want."

He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth, and I feel a sudden jolt go through me as I realize how close we are, his large, warm hand around my neck. He smells like cigarettes and something sweet and spicy I can't place, the scent making my lower stomach coil into a knot. My eyes drift down his high cheekbones, flushed with anger, and his pouty, pink mouth. He's clean shaven today and as my gaze drops to his chiselled jaw, I find myself wondering how it would feel to lick it. Heat spits down my spine, and I rip myself out of his arms, needing to be away from him, needing some distance.

Masen's eyes fly open, and the look he gives me makes something twist in my stomach. God, he hates me.

But that's what I wanted. That's what I want.

"I don't know how you fucking sleep at night," he mutters. "Now put some fucking clothes on because I'm dragging you down there, regardless of what you fucking want."

I slide the leggings up my legs and stare straight at him, "I sleep like a baby, Fido."

Lie.

But lying is the only language I can have with Masen. The more he hates me, the more likely he'll quit.

I can tell that I'm starting to break him, that it won't take much more.

I should be fucking glad about it.

Instead, all I feel is sick.

xXx

I sit on the couch, my arms crossed, as Charlie stands in front of me. He's glancing at his watch every two seconds, so I know he has somewhere to be, somewhere more important to be.

He's waiting for me to accept his apology, and he's going to be waiting a long fucking time because I'm not going to forgive him.

I glance past him to where Masen is sitting on the piano bench. He's still in that vest, his muscled arms resting on top of the gleaming black as he stares out the window. He's here as a buffer, I think. That's why Charlie hasn't asked him to leave. Masen can carry me off if Charlie loses his temper and doesn't want to deal with me.

The light is shining across his face, accentuating his pale skin and highlighting him in a soft white glow. Everything about his position should piss Charlie off, it normally does, and I've never had a bodyguard act like this around my father before, but Masen just gets away with it.

Even Emmett is smitten with him, and my uncles talk to Masen more than they do to me. They're lurking in the kitchen right now, I can hear Ginny laughing, and it makes my chest pang. I miss them. But they never cared enough; it's why they've already given up.

"For fucks sake, Isabella!" Charlie bursts out, "Can you just say something?"

"Something," I say innocently. I see Masen's lips twitch.

"Do you think you're fucking funny?" Charlie sighs, rubbing his face.

"Of course," I answer, crossing one leg over the other and staring at him. "What do you want exactly, daddy, dearest?"

"Respect," he mutters.

I laugh, "Not in this life."

His eyes narrow, but he restrains his temper. "Amicacy, then? Things aren't good right now; I need you to be careful, no sneaking out, no fucking around, stay with Masen at all times."

I tilt my head at him, "Things aren't good in what sense? Em mentioned Bano and Cinna."

Charlie sighs, "Yeah, that's its own fucking nightmare, but we've had a few guys turn up dead, can't figure out who did it, but something's fucking going on, so just...please, for the love of God, be good."

"Whatever," I say dismissively. I want to know more, but I don't want to give him the satisfaction of asking. Em will tell me.

Charlie looks at me warily, "That's it? No tantrum?"

I smile innocently, "Your lucky day, Daddy."

He narrows his eyes at me but then looks down at his watch again. "Shit, I've really got to go."

"Please excuse my lack of surprise," I state, staring at my fingernails.

He leans down and kisses my head. "Be a good girl. Please, Bella."

My eyes don't sting, and I don't want to cry.

He walks over to Masen and says something quietly. Masen nods, and then my father leaves the room without looking back.

"Bye, Cygnet!" I hear my uncles call loudly. Charlie says something, and there's a round of laughter, then the voices disappear.

I scoff, pulling my knees into my chest and resting my head on them. The room is silent except for Masen's breathing and mine, and I close my eyes.

After a few seconds, I hear his footsteps, and I lift my head and find him sprawling himself on the couch opposite me.

"What are you doing, Fido?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

"Boss said to stick to you like glue, may as well be fucking comfy."

I scowl, "He didn't mean in the house, you fucking idiot."

Masen lifts his head slightly, those vivid green eyes colliding with mine. "Actually, he specifically said in the house."

I give him the middle finger, and he smirks, lying back down and closing his eyes.

I want to leave the room, but I'm fucking tired, and I can't be bothered, so I just lie down too, letting my eyes close.

xXx

I stir on the couch and lift my head, blinking blearily. To my surprise, Masen is fast asleep on the other one. I stare at him for a second, biting my lip. His full lips are parted ever so slightly, his face slightly scrunched up where it's resting on his hand. My gaze drifts across his long black eyelashes and the flush of color dusting his high cheekbones. He looks almost ethereal; the afternoon sun is bathing his face in a warm orange glow, splashing onto the cushions around him too.

His breaths are deep, the rise and fall of his strong chest measured.

"Can I help you with something?" His low voice makes me jump, and I glance up and find bright emerald eyes fixed on mine, alert and firmly open.

"What?" I ask, glaring at him.

"Oh, are you done checking me out?" Masen smirks, sitting up and tilting his head at me.

"Yes," I state firmly, "and the answer is…you're still trash. Huh." I smile innocently and watch those green eyes glint dangerously.

"Bells!" I hear SJ call. I turn my head to the doorway.

"In here!" I yell back.

"Phil's here."

I gasp and jump off the couch, running out of the room. I can hear Masen jogging behind me and fight the urge to roll my eyes. What exactly does he think is going to happen to me in the ten seconds it takes him to walk into the foyer?

My eyes light up as I see Phil shrugging out of a black leather jacket, his long, brown hair tied up in a messy bun. He grins when he sees me, his blue eyes crinkling as he holds out his tattooed arms wide. I fly into them, and he picks me up, hugging me tightly and standing up to his full height, my feet dangling. I breathe in his aftershave, a painful pang resounding in my chest. He smells like my mom's laughter, sitting on his shoulders while she dances to old music, her cheeks rosy and eyes bright.

"Hi, sweetheart," he murmurs in my ear.

"Missed you," I sigh as he puts me down.

Phil rubs my arm comfortingly, and I reach out to touch the new ink on his neck. It's unfinished; wings and teeth and wolves, outlined but not filled in.

"I'm waiting for you to add some color for me," Phil smiles, catching my hand and squeezing it.

"Yeah?" I ask happily. "You trust me now, huh?

Phil waggles his eyebrows, "Gotta risk it for the biscuit, nefesim."

I smile softly at the Turkish term of endearment. It's what my mom used to call me, and only she and Phil ever used it. Charlie would never dare.

"You look old," I say playfully. He doesn't, not really, even though he's forty-five now.

"I look fucking exquisite," Phil smirks, glancing up over my head and raising his eyebrow. "Oh, this your new bodyguard."

"Won't be for long," I say confidently.

Phil hums. He doesn't like that I keep making them quit, even though he knows why. He thinks it's dangerous for me.

I don't fucking care.

"Hey, I'm Phil, Bella's Uncle," Phil says cordially. He may be smiling, but his eyes are hard.

"Hey," Masen's gritty voice mutters.

"Can I take you out?" Phil asks me, gazing back down and ruffling my hair.

"No," Masen answers for me. "She can't leave. Sorry."

I whirl around and meet his bored expression. "Fuck that. I can go, Phil," I say angrily.

"Yeah, no." Masen laughs, crossing his muscular arms. "I will drag you fucking back through that door, so don't try it."

I grit my teeth, "Ignore him, Phil, he-"

"It's fine, angel. We can just hang here," Phil says diplomatically, interrupting me. "Do you want to order in?"

As if on cue, SJ walks out of the kitchen, "So Pattie is making lasagna for tonight, but if you guys are hungry now, I can pop out and get Sushi? Masen, you want some?"

Masen makes a face. "Nah, I'll pass."

"You don't like sushi?" I ask, so taken aback I forget I'm supposed to hate him. Masen gives me a curious look before shrugging.

"Never had it, but raw fish doesn't sound very fucking appetizing."

Phil chuckles, and I roll my eyes. "So classless."

"So cunty," Masen mimics my tone of voice, smirking.

My mouth drops open, and Phil lets out a booming laugh. "He's fuckin' funny; maybe you should keep this one."

"Hard pass," I mutter.

"Excuse me while I go cry," Masen says, an arrogant smile playing at his lips. Phil snorts, and I turn to glare at him.

"What?" he holds up his hands, his eyes playful. "I'm not allowed to laugh?"

"Not at him," I state firmly.

"Hey SJ," Masen says charmingly, "I could always go for a slice of pie?"

She smiles warmly at him, "I'll see what I can do."

I huff, "I'm going to go get us a coffee Phil, we can watch a movie?"

"Sounds good, sweetheart," Phil grins. "Oh, before I forget, you got the money for the foundation?"

"I'll go grab it!" I tell him, racing upstairs. When I get back down, Masen and Phil are laughing, and I can see all over Phil's face that he likes him.

I thrust the wad of cash at him, glaring at him. "Sorry to interrupt your newfound bromance."

Phil doesn't acknowledge my words but takes the cash, looking pleased. I spin around and walk to the kitchen.

"What's that for?" I hear Masen ask quietly.

"Oh, Bella's mom founded a charity for–"

The rest of his words are cut off when I walk into the kitchen, Pattie's off-key singing drowning them out.

I clear my throat behind her, and she jumps, turning around with a surprised expression.

"You didn't tell me you could sing," I say slyly.

Pattie grins, giving me a cheeky smile. "Oh, that wasn't me; that was a cat, dying outside."

I snort. "You're not that bad. Besides, you're brave for trying to sing the Bangles; it's not easy."

Pattie laughs, her eyes lighting up. "You like the Bangles?"

I swallow, "My mom did."

"Then she had good taste," Pattie winks.

I give her a small smile and take a seat.

"You hungry, love?" Pattie asks softly.

"SJ's gonna run out for Sushi," I answer, "but...coffee? For Phil and me? Please."

"Sure," Pattie hums.

"You gonna serenade me some more while you make it?" I ask, laughing a little.

Pattie's eyes crinkle, "Why don't you sing for me instead? I know you can; I've heard you."

I shake my head firmly. "Nuh-uh."

"Not even for a cookie?" Pattie winks, brandishing a chocolate chip-filled desert.

"I will do absolutely anything for a cookie, except that," I laugh.

A wistful smile spreads across her lips, her eyes clouding with emotion.

I bite my lip alarmed, "Oh, I'm sorry, I can if you really want..."

"No, it's...my daughter used to say that too," Pattie says softly, her voice reverent and gentle. The expression on her face says it all; her tone says it even louder.

"Wh-when did she…" I ask gently.

Pattie swallows. "It's been ten years now. She was about your age when…"

"I'm so sorry."

"We can't change the past," Pattie murmurs. She sighs softly, and then her lips curve up ever so slightly. "You remind me a lot of her; she was feisty too."

"Ah, but was she as annoying as me?" I say, giving her a wicked grin.

"Not quite," Pattie teases.

xXx

"Bella," Rose slurs, her head lolling onto my shoulder. I roll my eyes at Alec, and he smirks, tilting the whisky bottle back and taking a gulp. I shift Rose onto Cilian and bend over the glass table, taking the line that's waiting for me.

"Fuck," I shiver, leaning back onto the couch again.

Cilian gently passes Rose back to me and then grips Jasper by the back of the neck, kissing him fiercely. I watch them with heavy eyes, biting my lip.

They look so fucking hot together, but I won't join in, even though I know I could. What almost happened the other week was fun, and I wouldn't have regretted it, but the moment's passed now. Besides, Jasper and Cilian seem to be fucking like rabbits; they don't need me to have a good time.

The elite in Manhattan know how to throw a rager. Plastic, red-rimmed cups are crystal glasses, the alcohol littering the table is over $200 a bottle, and there are so many bags of coke everywhere it looks like someone dropped the flour.

We're in a penthouse, Abbey Greeneham's penthouse. To everyone else, her dad is a prominent finance officiator, but I know what he really does—that he buys direct from Trigger and sells to the Middle East and that every single dime in this room is paid for in blood. I don't know if Abbey is aware of his job, but if she isn't, it's not up to me to tell her. The Mob infiltrates this city like ants under paving stones; hidden in plain sight, swarming thick and hungry below the surface.

The black leather couch is soft and pliant underneath us, no sweat or spillage because everything is too fucking expensive for that, and the AC is filling the room with an arctic breeze that makes me glad I'm wearing a bra. The thump of music filters through, slow and edgy, someone's idea of a hot track; no ones really listening. It's all just vibes. Black and Gold. Just like the credit cards spread across the glass table in front of us, reflecting shiny bank details that hold millions inside.

Several hours pass, and I'm back on the couch, my feet jumping and jaw clenching from the fresh line I just took. I'm done; hungry and fucking cold.

The party's still going; several girls are topless and dancing, but Rose got picked up a few hours ago, and all my best friends are either fucking or too out of it to be any fun right now.

I lean my head back, staring up at the glistening crystal chandelier high up above my head. I want to go home, I'm bored, but that presents a problem. Normally, Cilian would take me, but he dragged Jasper off a few hours ago, and from the noises still coming from that room, they're still going strong. I sigh grumpily. I could interrupt, but knowing the both of them, that would end up with me being sandwiched in between and I don't want that.

I can't ask Alec either because he disappeared a while ago with two college girls that came with Agnes's brother. I wish I'd gone with Rose instead of playing that stupid Poker game with the Moss twins. I'm down $500 and stuck here without a way home.

Dragging myself up, I make a quick round and say my goodbyes to everyone, dodging drunken kisses and wandering hands. The main road is only a three-minute walk, and I can easily grab a yellow cab once I'm there. I'll be fine; no one knows where I am anyway.

My boots click across the marble floor of the foyer downstairs, and I nod at the doorman as he holds the door open for me.

The sky is muted black - night veiled with the city lights until it looks like all the contrast has been taken out, the stars hidden amongst the strange gray.

I'm staring up at it, walking quickly past the buildings, when a large hand suddenly covers my mouth and pulls me back into a hard body. I'm instantly on high alert, jamming my elbow backward as adrenaline floods through me, heart racing. He smells like sweat and danger, and I panic, twisting myself rapidly, my head spinning. I try to elbow the man again, but he dodges it easily, and I whimper as a second set of hands grab me, pulling my arms behind my body.

I bite the hand covering my mouth, and I hear a hiss behind me. I buck my body to kick out of the grip of the two men, but I'm pushed down onto the ground, a knee on my back, making me gasp for breath. My hands are roughly pulled behind, a plastic shriek as a zip tie is closed around my wrists, cutting into my skin tightly.

I have a knife attached to my thigh, but I can't get to it right now; they were too quick. I should have brought a gun. My heart is hammering against my rib cage.

Suddenly, I hear a muffled gurgle above me, and something white-hot rains down over my back and neck, scalding me. I fall forward and roll my shoulder under me slightly, narrowly avoiding smashing my face into the concrete. It's rough against my skin, the smell of damp stone and urine making me gag.

I hear a scuffle next to me and roughly twist onto my back, the uneven ground scratching my bare midriff. For a second, I lie there, gasping at air, but then I'm throwing my feet over my head, lifting my hips up high so I can manoeuvre my tied wrists to the front of my body. I get my hands out from under my ass and pull them up my thighs, my stomach muscles straining as I hold myself up to drag my legs and feet through the gap.

Hands finally in front of me, I manage to get to my knees and quickly look around. I taste bile as I see the slumped body in front of me, the pavement painted red. Something drips down my top, between my breasts, and I don't look down because I know what that hot stuff was, and if I let myself look, I'll be sick.

The sound of fighting makes me turn my head, and I see Masen ducking and dodging two men. The sight of him fills me with so much relief my breath catches. He's so agile, his lip curled in anger, muscles in his arms tensing as he blocks hits and throws punches. I can see flashes of silver, and I widen my eyes when I realize they all have knives.

I raise my arms high above my head, taking a deep breath before slamming my elbows down to my hips. The first try does nothing, the plastic just cutting deeper into me, but on the third try, to my delight, the tie snaps. The relief to my wrists is immediate, but I don't have time to revel in it. I quickly jump to my feet and search the man's body for a gun.

I feel cool, smooth metal against my palms, and I pick it up, pulling back the safety and gripping it tightly. I know how to use it in theory; I've just never had to before.

"Stop!" I order, pointing the gun at the two men and Masen. They all freeze, and my hand trembles, the weight of the gun making my shoulders burn.

"You won't use it," the man on his right coos. He's wearing a mask over his eyes, greasy blonde hair hanging around his shoulders.

"Try me," I say coolly, amazed my hand isn't shaking. Masen's eyes flick to mine for a brief second, and he jerks his head slightly to the right. I train my gun on the blonde man, hoping that's what he means, and there's a sudden choking noise from Masen's other side. I glance over in shock, my chest freezing as a fountain of blood sprays from the dark-haired man's mouth, his body shaking. I look down and find Masen's fist in his gut, a thick black hilt in his palm. Masen pulls the knife out, and before I even realize what's happened, he's grabbing the blonde-haired man from behind, the gleaming red blade at his throat. The other man hits the floor with a thud, glassy eyes staring up.

"Go on then," the blonde-man hisses, "kill me."

I force myself to look up, and he's staring right at me. I can make out his blue eyes from behind the mask, cold and calculating, piercing into mine.

"Speak to her again, and I won't kill you, but I'll take an eye," Masen hisses. The man falls silent. Masen beckons me to him, and I walk up carefully, the man in his grip struggling as I approach.

"Give me the gun," Masen orders. "Walk behind me and put it in the back of my jeans." I do as he says, lifting his shirt.

"Safety first," Masen says sharply, making me freeze. I quickly engage it and then grip his belt, my fingertips brushing the soft skin of his back as I push the gun into the waistband. It's damp, wet with sweat, the gun sliding a little against him.

"Good girl," Masen murmurs, "you know how to start a motorbike?"

"Yeah," I say hoarsely.

"Okay, grab the keys and my phone; they're both in my front right pocket."

"But I have to touch…"

Masen chuckles. Throws his head back and laughs. "You're covered in fucking blood, girl. Is that really what you're worried about right now? Put your hands in my fucking pants and grab the shit."

When I reach for his pocket, I'm shaking so badly that I miss the first few times, accidentally grazing his abs. I finally manage to pull the keys and phone out, and Masen barks at me to call someone called Ricko.

I stand slightly behind him, trembling, and Masen turns his head to stare at me. His green eyes meet mine, and I shiver, tears clouding my vision. Masen tracks them down my cheeks before he swears quietly.

"I know you're fucking scared, but I need you to focus, okay? We've got two fuckin' dead bodies here–this shit is real bad."

"O-okay," I say, teeth chattering.

"Okay, call Ricko for me, put him on loudspeaker; there's a good girl."

I open his lock screen. It's a picture of him and a young kid, two sets of identical green eyes, peering at the camera. I force it to the back of my mind and open the phone icon. Ricko is on speed dial, and I click it shakily, pressing the speaker and holding it by Masen.

"Mase, what's u-"

"I need a clean-up crew in an alley on 1st Ave and 84th. Tell SBS that Cygnet is fine, but I got two wasted and one kickin'."

"Be there in five. You injured? Oi, Monkey, Smalls, Vance, get in the car."

"Both fine. But I need to get her out of here."

"'Aight, brother, sit tight."

There's a beep, and Masen turns his head to me again, "You good?"

I nod, and he nods back. "Get to the bike, and start it for me, okay? It's down the alley a bit."

I swallow and walk towards the thin black bike.

"Who sent you?" Masen asks the guy in a rough voice. "Who do you work for?"

I hear a low laugh, "I'll die before I tell you."

"That can be arranged," Masen says in a menacing voice, "and it won't be fucking quick."

The man says something, but as I straddle the bike and twist the keys, the loud purr of the engine drowns out his words.

I sit there idling, the bike vibrating between my legs, a mirror of the way my heart is crashing into my ribs. The blood is drying, stiffening at the back of my neck, dripping from my hair, and running down my spine.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. It's my mantra, and I don't know how long I'm repeating it until I hear tires screeching and feet slamming across the pavement. A warm body is suddenly pressing behind mine, making me tense.

"Just me," Masen says in my ear. "Can you ride, or do we need to swap?"

I kick the stand as his strong arms wrap around my waist and twist the handle, pulling my feet up as the bike tears down the alley.

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