Nightfall (Devil's Night 4)

Jesus. Who was she, and where did she come from? But then again, I was fine not knowing. It might’ve seemed weird to some people, but nothing seemed weird to me anymore. I liked mystery. Bring it.

I looked around at all the faces, Kai, Michael, Misha, and their girls probably having left to take Alex to the hospital.

“Where’s Em?” I asked Damon.

He glanced around and shrugged.

I tensed. She was right next to me before I chased Martin. She wouldn’t have left. I shot to my feet and pushed through them, rushing back into the park again and scanning the area for her.

Aydin was here. His people were here. Martin and Evans were gone.

Who…

Everyone hurried after me as realization dawned.

“Taylor,” I said, looking to Micah and Rory. “Have you seen Taylor?”

I hadn’t seen him, but the kid said she saw someone with an injured hand arrive two nights ago.

He had her.

I ran for the parking lot, everyone following me, but as soon as I got there, I saw a small group of men clad in black standing there with a convoy of cars, and I stopped.

Who the fuck was this now?

One of the men, built like a wrestler with muscles bulging out of his black shirt, stepped forward. His shiny black hair gleamed in the moonlight, the scruff on his cheek well-manicured. “Mr. Grayson?” he asked.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Micah walked to my side and put a hand on my chest, stopping me.

“How did you find us?” he asked the guy.

The burly one just smiled, looking coy. “Like he ever not knows where you are, Mr. Moreau.”

Micah scoffed, looking away.

And then it hit me. Stalinz sent me back-up. These were mine.

“Where do you need us?” the guy asked.

I walked over and opened the door of his car, climbing in. “Follow us. When I wave you past, cut off the car I’m trailing.”

I started the engine, not wasting another moment. Damon, Micah, and Rory jumped in with me, and I sped off, out of the park, and turning left, toward Falcon’s Well and the shortcut to Evans Crist’s house. That was the only place I could think he’d go. If he wasn’t here tonight, then he didn’t know Evans had been caught.

I slammed the steering wheel with my fist. No one—and I mean, no one—was coming between us again.

Not ever again.

I pushed the pedal to the floor, hanging right as Damon grabbed the dash for support, and headed up into the cliffs, speeding down the lane.

If he’d gotten inside the Crist gates, I was going to crash right through and into the fucking house to get her, dammit.

Two more of Moreau’s SUVs trailed my ass like a convoy, and I rushed over dips in the highway, zooming past other cars and a truck full of kids out for Devil’s Night.

And then I spotted taillights ahead, recognizing one of Evans’s cars—a midnight blue Rover—racing down the road.

I smiled. Sticking my arm out the window, I waved the car behind me ahead and slowed just a little, so I didn’t have to slam on the brakes in a moment.

Moreau’s man sped past, raced ahead of the Rover, and jerked the wheel, screeching to a halt on the highway and blocking Taylor’s path.