by Peak, Renna
I glance out the window. If I hit the unlock button and pull the door handle at the same time, I bet I can get the door open before he can stop me. But we’re probably going forty or fifty miles per hour. I have no idea what my chances of survival are if I attempt to leap from a vehicle at this speed. Are those chances better or worse than my chances of survival if I don’t get away from Adam?
I shift my eyes to him. He’s still holding onto the wheel as if his life depends on it. But if I reach over and give the wheel a firm tug, make the car swerve…that would force him to hit the brakes. It might give me the opening I need to leap free of the car and run away.
Or it might kill us both.
God, I miss the time when the most terrifying thing I encountered in my life was a horse.
Just when I’m bracing myself to do it—to escape or die trying—I hear the blare of a siren.
I twist around, staring down the long road stretching behind us. In the distance, I see a vehicle with flashing lights on top, speeding toward us. My heart leaps.
“That’s Nick,” I tell Adam. “He’s coming for me.” In all honesty, I have no idea who it is, or even if Nick has noticed I’m missing yet—I have no idea how long I was out cold—but I’ll take any hope I can get. “If you pull over and let me out, you can still get away.”
Adam glances in the rearview mirror. I can’t tell from his expression whether he’s considering the offer or not.
But then he shakes his head. “If you think that man can scare me into letting you go, then you don’t know me very well, Clara.”
I twist around again, watching the car. It’s gaining on us, but slowly—and Adam has sped up. There’s no hope of leaping from the car now, and if I attempt to grab the wheel from him, we’ll almost certainly crash.
So I do the only thing I can—close my eyes and hope that help is on the way.
Nicholas
The moment the gardener said he’d seen a flaxen-haired man on the path this morning, I knew exactly what had happened. Perhaps not exactly—but I knew immediately who the perpetrator of Clara’s disappearance was.
“I should have driven myself,” I mumble. “Can this vehicle not move any faster?”
Caspar shoots me a look from the front seat. “We don’t even know if that is the right car, Cousin.”
“Truly? How many red sedans speed through Wintervale on a morning such as this?” I try not to roll my eyes at my cousin, but it is a true effort.
“That’s the car. I’m certain of it,” the driver says. He happened to be outside the garage, washing this particular car when he spotted the intruder’s vehicle leaving the manor grounds.
I suppose I should count myself lucky that we were at Wintervale Manor—that there were so many people around when this happened. If Clara and I had been on my ranch in Montana, I might never have been able to find her. She would have been gone in an instant with no one else around for miles.
Lucky, I tell myself as I release a long breath, trying to calm my nerves. If I should get to see Clara again, I’ll consider myself the luckiest man alive.
The police are following us, the siren atop the car blaring so loudly that it interrupts my thoughts.
I turn to look back at them trailing our bumper—a bit too closely at this speed, if it were up to me. I turn back to Caspar. “Is it wise to have the siren on? It looks like the car ahead has sped up.”
“He’ll have to stop at the border, Your Highness,” the driver says without giving me so much as a glance.
That might be the one saving grace of our closed borders. I’ve often wondered why Montovia has such strict border crossings, but at this moment, I’m forever grateful for our laws.
“He’s exiting!” Caspar cries as the red sedan suddenly pulls off the highway without so much as a signal.
We swerve off the highway onto the exit, and I’m forced to grab hold of the handle above the door to steady myself.
“Apologies,” the driver mumbles as he begins to speed up again to keep up with the vehicle ahead of us.
The police car behind us seems to have had the same problem, and I turn to watch them nearly drive off the road, having exited at such a great speed. But it’s only a moment before their car is trailing right behind us again, the siren still blaring.
I’m not familiar with the road we’re on now, only that we’re very near the border. It’s possible this stretch of pavement goes all the way to the border to the north, which would mean several hundred more kilometers of this. It’s also possible her idiot ex-fiancé could lead us all the way around Montovia until one of us runs out of petrol.
I strain to look through the sedan’s rear window, trying to catch sight of Clara, but the windows are tinted in such a way that I’m unable to see anything—I can’t even be sure it’s the right car.
Caspar seems to sense my concern. “It’s them, Cousin. Why else would they be trying to speed away?”
I’m hesitant to offer any number of reasons why the car ahead of us is speeding—perhaps they’ve just robbed a bank. Or perhaps it is a teen, afraid of receiving a ticket for reckless driving.
“It’s them,” Caspar says again, almost as though he’s trying to convince himself. “It must be.” He turns to face me once more. “You should have warned us that her former fiancé was a madman.”
“Had I known he was capable of something like this, I would have.” I strain again to see through the rear window of the sedan ahead, though I know it’s pointless.
“Jilted lovers can be…” Caspar glances at me, seeming to regret his choice of words already. “Unpredictable,” he finishes, almost under his breath.
“Not all jilted lovers commit felonies when their heart is broken, Cousin,” I say through gritted teeth. “Believe me, had I known this man was capable of such a thing, I would have had him barred from the country. To my knowledge, he’s never even made a threat.” Though I realize suddenly that Clara does not tell me everything—perhaps she doesn’t even tell me most things. It’s certainly possible that they’ve been in contact and she hasn’t told me. It’s also possible that he has made a threat, and she chose not to worry me with it, thinking that being in Montovia would be enough.
“Of course, Cousin. And I didn’t mean to insinuate…” Caspar frowns, turning to look ahead again.
This part of Montovia—like most of our rural lands—is farmland. Crops of all colors, like a patchwork quilt, stretch out in front of us as we start into the valley below. And if my stomach wasn’t bound in knots, I’d think this was beautiful. I’ve only rarely been to this region, and I wonder why I didn’t think to come here instead of Montana, just as Sophia once asked me. I could have easily purchased a farm here, hidden away from the view of the rest of the world.
But then I wouldn’t have met Clara, I remind myself.
“We must do something,” I mutter. “How can we force that car from the road?”
Caspar’s head snaps around. “Don’t be stupid, Cousin. At this high speed, the car would surely roll if we were to try to do something like that.” He lifts a brow. “Your betrothed is inside that vehicle—”
“She isn’t my betrothed.” I frown. “I suppose you already knew that.”
“I’d suspected as much.” Caspar glances ahead before turning back to me. “Though that means little. You love each other. The status of your engagement is irrelevant.”
We love each other. Yes. That is truly all that matters. I don’t have to marry her to know I love her. Though, at the moment, I wish she knew that I’d told her I love her. As I recall, she was quite drunk when I said the words to her, and she has no memory of my telling her at all.
“What else can we do?” I ask of no one in particular.
Caspar turns to me once more, lifting a brow. “We follow them, Cousin. We follow until one of us runs out of petrol.” He pauses. “Or until the worst happens.”
He doesn’t have to tell me what he means. I can only hope that the former happens before the
latter.
Clara
When I told myself I wanted more adventures in my life, this was not what I anticipated at all.
“You’re going to kill us both,” I tell Adam as he speeds down the road. “Pull over!”
Adam ignores me, just as he’s ignored the other fifty times I’ve begged him to end this madness. I’ve tried everything—not just begging, but also demanding, cajoling, and everything in between. Nothing works. He’s determined to get us out of this country, no matter what the consequences.
I twist around in my seat again, looking at the cars behind us—the police vehicle with its sirens blaring and another dark car with deeply tinted windows. There’s no longer any doubt that they’re coming for us. For me. But the initial relief I felt at the possibility of rescue has slowly seeped away. Rather than admit that this is over, Adam has only dug himself in deeper. I fear for both of our lives.
“There’s nowhere to go,” I tell him. “Please, Adam. Just pull over.”
He shakes his head stiffly. “If I can’t get you past the border, then we can seek asylum at the U.S. embassy in the capital. They’ll protect you and make sure you get out of this country safely.”
“I came to Montovia willingly,” I remind him. “And the only thing I need protection from is you.”
His face grows hard. “Then I’ll tell them you need mental help. You’re clearly out of your mind.”
“One of us is,” I mutter. “But it’s not me.”
That only makes him angrier. “This isn’t up for debate!”
I look over my shoulder again. The cars are close, but there’s no way for them to stop us without causing a collision. At this speed, that would only end in tragedy.
What are my options, then? What can I do besides close my eyes and pray for a miracle?
The moment that thought crosses my mind, there’s a loud POP! like a small explosion, and suddenly our car swerves drastically to the right. Before Adam can correct it, the car veers off the road, shooting over the shoulder and onto the grassy field beyond.
I grip my seat, grateful that I decided to clip on my seatbelt several miles back. The car bounces over the uneven ground, and Adam twists the wheel, trying desperately to steer us back to the road. But the car is still pulling to the right, and now there’s an obvious lean to the vehicle.
“We blew a tire,” I tell him, in case that isn’t obvious to him. “It’s over, Adam.”
“It’s never over!” he shouts, slamming his foot down on the accelerator. The car jolts forward, bouncing violently, and the remaining wheels whir and whine. Even if we had all four tires in working order, this car is no match for the soft, uneven ground of this field.
The other cars have pulled off the road behind us. A couple of men have already leaped from the police vehicle, weapons drawn. They’re shouting something, but I can’t hear it over the whining of the tires.
“Adam, stop!” I know my shouts won’t do any good, not if they haven’t worked so far, but I won’t stop trying. I might be the only one who can get through to him right now.
But he still doesn’t listen. And as the car jolts and stops, jolts and stops, I realize this might be the only chance I have.
I unclip my seatbelt and reach for the door, unlocking it at the same moment that I pull on the handle.
“No!” Adam shouts as I throw the door open. He reaches for me as I leap from the car, and his hand catches a large chunk of my hair. Pain sears through my scalp, but I have momentum on my side. I fall onto the grass and mud, and most of my hair comes with me.
I hear Adam cursing behind me as I roll away from the still-moving car. As I push myself up onto my knees, the car finally comes to a stop behind me, and then Adam throws himself out of the passenger’s side door after me.
He’s faster than he has any right to be. I’m only partially upright before he grabs me, pulling me in front of him as some sort of prisoner and shield in one.
“Don’t come any closer!” he shouts at the people on the shoulder.
I look up at them again. At least three police officers stand next to their car, weapons pointed at Adam…and me, since Adam is holding me in front of him. Behind them, next to the other vehicle. I see Caspar.
The one person I don’t see is Nick.
That’s weird. If Caspar knows I’m here, then Nick must, too. There’s no way he’d let his cousin come after me alone. No way Nick would leave me in Adam’s clutches under any circumstances. And he certainly wouldn’t be hiding in the car. So where is he?
Adam’s face is close to my ear, and his sudden shout nearly deafens me. “I’m not letting her go!”
One of the officers takes a slow step toward us. “There’s no reason to threaten her, sir. Just release the woman so we can talk.”
“I’m not threatening her! I’m saving her!” Adam shouts. His arms tighten around my neck and waist. “You’re the ones threatening her!”
“We’re not threatening anyone, sir,” the officer says, taking another step through the grass. “We just want to have a nice, peaceful conversation.”
“She was kidnapped!” Adam yells. “By your fucking prince! I don’t trust any of you assholes!”
Where is Nick? My eyes keep searching for him as Adam continues to shout at the officer, but my gaze can only travel so far. Adam’s arm around my neck keeps me from being able to turn my head more than a fraction. Where is he?
But I don’t have the luxury of stewing on that question. It’s clear that the officer isn’t getting through to Adam. And as long as I’m being used as a human shield, the police aren’t going to make any sudden moves.
Which leaves it up to me.
Adam has started a diatribe against Montovia and everything that it stands for, and I’m hoping that all that bitterness and anger is enough of a distraction. He pauses to take a breath, and the moment he begins shouting again, I move.
My range of motion is rather limited at the moment, but I can do enough. I slam my foot down on top of his, and at the same moment I twist and jab my elbow as hard as I can into his side.
His shouting cuts off, and he grunts and partially doubles over, loosening his grip on me.
At the same moment, Nick leaps out from behind Adam’s abandoned car. And as he grabs Adam by the neck, he looks ready to kill.
Nicholas
As I squeeze the imbecile by the neck, my vision goes red. All I can think is how he tried to kill the woman I love.
“Let…go,” he gasps, clawing against my forearms.
I barely even hear him—my mind is spinning with too many thoughts of how he put Clara in danger.
“Nicholas,” a man says beside me.
“Your Highness!” someone calls from somewhere farther away.
“Nick!” It isn’t until I hear Clara’s voice that anything registers.
My gaze snaps to her—she’s run toward the police car and is standing between two of the officers. My grip on the man’s neck releases, and he drops to the ground.
I step over him as the police rush toward him, and I walk toward Clara.
She meets me halfway, running into my arms and pressing her head against my chest.
My arms wrap around her, and I hold her for what seems an eternity but not nearly long enough.
It’s a few moments before I realize she’s sobbing softly against my shirt, and my hold on her tightens. I’ve no idea what to say—can I tell her how I feared she was going to die in that car? That I’ve never been so frightened in all my life? I can’t imagine how she must have felt being in that situation.
“Clara!” Adam’s voice is hoarse, and I realize with a start that I may have actually injured him. “Clara!”
She pulls away from my chest while remaining in my arms, just far enough to lift her head to look over at her former fiancé.
“Clara, tell them!” Adam motions with his head toward the officer beside him, his arms bound behind his back with handcuffs. “Tell them what he did to you!”
“He’s lying! He’s lying to all of you! Look at her! Look at her! You can’t honestly believe she would choose him over me! Look at her!” Adam’s voice is still hoarse, but he’s wild, screaming and bucking against the hold the police have on him.
Clara burrows into my chest as the officers start to put the man in the back of their car.
Adam begins yelling again before the door is closed. “This isn’t over! I’ll die before I stop trying to save you Clara!” His voice muffles after the door is closed, and his words are no longer audible.
It isn’t until then that Clara pulls away. “You came.”
“Of course I came.” My brow furrows. “Why wouldn’t I have come?”
She shakes her head, sniffling a bit. “I thought… I didn’t know how you’d find me.”
I look down at her, and the feeling that fills my chest is one I don’t recognize. How could she possibly have thought I wouldn’t come for her? When all I can feel is…this when I look at her?
Caspar walks to my side, clapping me on the shoulder. “Thank you for not killing him, Cousin.”
My brow furrows further as I turn to look at him.
He claps me again on the arm. “The amount of paperwork involved…” He shakes his head, chuckling as he turns to Clara. “You do know how to choose your men, don’t you, Clara?” His smile widens. “Murderous American. Poor-prank-playing Montovian prince.” He swings his head slowly from side to side. “One might question your judgment of character.”
Clara blinks at him for a moment before she smiles. Her smile turns to a grin a moment later, and she begins to laugh. She throws her arms around me again and closes her eyes, laughing against my chest.