Chapter 4

I was a fool for ever thinking he could love me.

The race was about to start. The roar of engines filled the air.

Holden came back to me, his face a cold mask. He grabbed my arms and forced me onto the back of the motorcycle, tying my wrists to the sissy bar behind me with a zip tie. It cut into my skin.

He then shoved a piece of greasy cloth into my mouth.

"Bite down on this," he ordered. "So you don't bite your tongue off."

His back was broad and strong as he settled in front of me. He had used that back to shield me from the world once. Now it was a wall I couldn't escape.

The bike shot forward with a violent jolt.

The world became a blur of speed and noise. I screamed against the gag, the sound lost in the wind and the engine's roar. I beat against his back with my bound hands, a desperate, useless rhythm.

"My heart!" I managed to shout, the cloth muffling my words. "Holden, stop! You'll kill me!"

He didn't even flinch. He just leaned lower, pushing the bike faster and faster. All he could think about was the promise he made to Betsy. The trophy he had to win for her.

Then, up ahead, I saw a commotion near the finish line. One of the other racers, a big guy named Spike, had cornered Betsy. He was touching her arm, his face too close to hers.

Betsy looked terrified. She shot a panicked glance toward us.

"Holden, please," she mouthed, her eyes wide with fear. "He's scaring me."

That was all it took.

Holden reacted instantly. He jumped off the moving bike, leaving me tied to a two-wheeled missile with no driver.

He landed on his feet and launched himself at Spike. "Get your hands off her!" he roared, his fists flying.

The motorcycle, riderless, wobbled violently and then crashed. It fell on its side, pinning my leg underneath its heavy frame.

Pain exploded through my body. A hot, wet sensation spread across my skin.

Blood. So much blood.

It pooled on the dirty asphalt around me. My leg was twisted at an unnatural angle. My head had hit the ground hard.

But the pain in my body was nothing compared to the agony in my chest.

Through a haze of pain, I saw Betsy run into Holden's arms.

"I was so scared," she sobbed, burying her face in his chest. "Take me away from here, Holden. Please."

Her tears were his kryptonite.

He held her close, stroking her back. "It's okay, baby. I'm here. I won't let anyone hurt you."

He lifted her into his arms, as if she were made of glass.

He didn't look at me once.

"Hey, man!" someone from the crowd yelled. "Your other girl! Her leg's broken! And her eye... man, she's bleeding from her eye!"

Holden's fingers tightened on Betsy's arm for a fraction of a second.

He turned his head. His eyes met mine across the chaotic scene.

For the first time, I didn't see anger or annoyance. I saw a flicker of something else. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

And all I could give him back was a cold, empty stare.