Clutching Senpai's shoulders, I dragged him from the quad cab and shoved him toward the driver's side. "We should leave now. I feel them getting closer," I urged as I hopped in the passenger seat and slammed the door.

The items we had spent a leisurely forty-five minutes shopping to buy were left behind, except the first aid kit. I had grabbed it on the way out without thinking. Now Zyr threw it back to Aurie. I tried to guess what charges we would face when this all hit the fan.

He peeled from the parking lot on two wheels, and the speedy reverse jostled us like bobbleheads. Aurie let out a squeaky yelp while I hugged myself, struggling not to puke. Pedestrians seemed a hair's breadth from being flattened. Commendably, the detective navigated the human obstacle course like a pro.

We sped toward the road. A shimmer hovered over the blacktop, and sunlight glinted off vehicles. The beads of sweat rolling down my face had little to do with the summer heatwave, however. Empathy was destroying me. There were too many people. Too many impressions. Panting, I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Can you sense how many are following us?" Zyr asked, switching on the AC.

His voice was calmer than he felt. I knew. He buzzed with yellow and orange agitation, and his need to morph was a painful throb in my head—his head. His fight or flight reflex only had one setting: A bright red impulse to battle hard. Oddly enough, deep purple desire twisted in his gut at the same time.

"I'm not sure. I think no more than the two we saw, but they don't read like the usual vampire pets," I breathed.

"They're not pets. They're mercenaries, hired guns. The vampire scent wasn't on them. I bet Cyprian never even met them in person. That's why I didn't smell them." As Zyr spoke, he studied the rearview mirror to see if they were coming up behind us.

I processed the news while I let the cold blast from the vents gradually help. Fists unclenching, I stretched my fingers. I took a few deep breaths, and I slit my eyelids to view the oversaturated cerulean sky, my blurred vision growing accustomed to the noon sun.

"Is that why my Empathy didn't work until the last minute?" I looked over at the detective.

"My guess is they weren't sure of their targets. Probably working with photographs."

"Top shelf. Gotta hand it to Darcy. He's clever, but those same weaknesses can't be exploited again, now that we know his game," I said.

I glanced at Aurie in the backseat. Her face was devoid of emotion, but she was a tangle of feelings. Sad about not seeing her final resting place, confused by Zyr's noncommittal push-and-pull, depressed by the constant threat Darcy posed.

I reached between the seats and interlocked our fingers. Some of her tension unfurled. A tenuous sort of resignation took its place, and she locked our hands tighter together.

"Why did he send mercenaries?" she asked as she stroked my thumb with hers.

"To keep an eye on us." Zyr met her gaze in the rearview mirror. "By now Cyprian realizes you don't plan to give him what he wants. We have to shake these men, or they'll follow us to the cabin. There's no hope if he learns our destination."

"But why send killers for a dead girl?"

"They're not for you," Zyr muttered.

She went quiet.

My attention returned to the chase. As quickly as the feeling of being hunted had subsided, it came rushing back. I had never dealt with malice like what radiated from the hired guns in the SUV. They weren't after a paying gig. They relished killing. They preferred inflicting pain.

I caught a glimpse of Zyr with the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, and in the fabric of my consciousness, he didn't feel like himself—too volatile, too close to skipping his marbles.

"You okay?" I asked him.

"Yeah, hold on."

A sharp jerk, and the Dodge swerved into the right lane. Gasping, I dropped Aurie's hand to grip the door for dear life. Duhnnnnn! A horn blared from a passing car. I was wowed by a child waving from the backseat. I shakily waved back since the kiddo didn't appear scared by the erratic maneuvering his parents took to avoid hitting us.

"Gods! Be careful, Zyr," I admonished.

The truck climbed speeds with yowls of the engine. Behind me, Aurie yanked on her seatbelt. My apprehension rose like heartburn as we zipped past the same vehicle. The same kid beamed at us, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He held up a Matchbox racecar.

There was no way the detective saw him. Zyr reached in the center console and pulled out a black and silver Glock for the SUV speeding to catch us. "I've had it with these motherfuckers," he whispered.

"Are you crazy? You can't fire that on a busy interstate!" I yelled. I turned to the child, who was thrilled enough by the idea we were racing that he hadn't noticed the weapon. The kid gave another gleeful wave, but I didn't have the energy to respond in kind.

My terror was mounting. I realized Zyr had split his attention between the road and the men chasing us. The Dodge truck seemed to have a mind of its own. It moved seamlessly with the flow of traffic, while its driver extended his gun-arm past me, tapping the passenger window with the gleaming barrel.

Our pursuers drew level with us. The two burly mercenaries grinned from ear to ear, and the detective's lips twisted in a disturbing facsimile of a smile to match theirs. His bloodlust would have been fascinating if not for how real shit was getting.

I'm gonna die. I scrunched lower in my seat. We're ALL gonna die.

My gaze flew to the chipper kid in the sedan ahead. He could grow up to be the next esports racer. I pictured the devastation a stray bullet could cause, and I stopped cringing and straightened.

"Zyr, put the fucking gun away!" I shouted.

Aurie reached from the backseat and emphatically snatched the firearm from his hand. I did a doubletake, stunned. Zyr glowered at her through the rearview, but she tucked the gleaming steel beneath her body and crossed her arms. "Focus on driving," she directed. Her bold moves seemed to bring the detective to his senses. He clamped his hands on the steering wheel.

I faced forward to see the young racecar enthusiast's family disappearing in traffic. Thank the gods. One crisis averted. Even so, killers were still in hot pursuit.

Heart in my throat, I peered at the SUV, but the vehicle had fallen behind ours. The men within shared dumbfounded looks, pointing in fear at our truck. I realized they had seen the gun flying into the backseat. Oof. It would seem like bad juju to them, especially since they weren't familiar with our world. I smiled in relief.

"Let's go before they decide we need an exorcism," I said.

Zyr shifted gears. The truck let out a rumbling roar and screamed down the interstate. The drive was doubly terrifying because the road we traveled stretched over bayou. The trees we flew past blended with sky and river.

We skipped from one opening in traffic to another, eating up the miles. Finally, I checked the side mirror, and the SUV was gone. The high-speed chase was done. Still, we continued at a swift cruise.

Silence filled the quad cab as our mood settled. The blinker ticked at the next exit. Another long expanse of bridge with less traffic. Looking out over the glassy water and stoic trees, I squinted at the glaring sun. The day was too gorgeous for death scares.

Zyr peeped at me and grinned as I touched my chest and arms. "I know you weren't nervous," he joked. "Relax."

I snorted a laugh. Sobering, I studied him in profile. "What happened back there?" I asked. Sunlight hit his eyes and turned them topaz. His tan skin soaked up the golden rays. He squared his jaw with a bob of his Adam's apple.

"I'll get you two settled at the cabin. After that you might not see me awhile, but I'll make sure you have everything you need."

"That doesn't answer my question," I said.

Aurie sat forward to rest her head on my shoulder. "It's because he's a rogue," she replied.

Zyr bitterly conceded, "Yeah, because I'm a rogue, it's my turn to court insanity."

I admitted I didn't know much about rogues. He gave me a crash course. Idle, isolated wolves became progressively more savage to the point of being a danger to others. It was bizarre déjà vu to deal with two deteriorating Supernaturals, but Aurie and Zyr couldn't have met each other at a worse time.

"Seems like it would be the other way around. Being with a pack would make you more canine, and being around people would make you more human," I mumbled at the passing scenery. I almost suggested the case should be enough to keep him focused and sane. I was learning to trust other people's instincts about themselves, however. I had been dead wrong about Aurie.

"You have to understand our nature," Zyr stated. I swung my gaze to him. "Every shifter has an animal spirit that's somehow separate from us but one with us. There's a constant battle for supremacy between the civilized and the untamed sides. Usually, self-discipline keeps the wolf in line.

"But, in isolation, the wildness speaks so loudly that it's all we hear. Unless we have something else keeping our attention, then it takes over, especially around the full moon," he went on. "Why do you think humans have werewolf stories in the first place? Fear the lunatic."

"Wait a second. I thought you said you were born that way. The old stories about werewolves are real? You can infect others?" Aurie asked with interest.

"'Infect?' We can turn humans. It just isn't done. The Council disapproves," he said.

As I listened to them discuss the pros and cons of creating more werewolves, I fumbled for my vape pen. Concern for Zyr's wellbeing struck a ripe blue note within me. I laid my cheek on Aurie's head. A sense of peace emanated from her, taking away some of my stress.

I sensed the mellow vibe corresponded to her acceptance of the inevitable. Death was no longer a threat to her. It made her feel invincible. She wasn't worried about Zyr because he had given his word that we'd be with her in her final hour. But it would take more than confidence to find a breakthrough to help him the way we were helping her.

I peered at the man who had stolen my stone heart on the first kiss in the shadow of a cathedral. He had learned the truth about me and kissed me again anyway. And Aurie had insisted on loving me regardless of who or what I was. Somehow, she had managed to make me, the loner, not want to lose her.

None of us wanted to lose. The irony of being an Empath was realizing how they felt before they knew it, themselves. Something was growing between us like a green shoot forcing its way up through rocky, inhospitable soil. Yet, how long could a fragile flower nurtured by darkness and death survive?