Only when York saw that the Wolves had retreated to a safe distance did he finally allow himself to breathe.
He shoved Catherine aside without ceremony, vaulted into the driver’s seat, slammed the door, and twisted the ignition, all in one frantic motion.
VROOM!
The engine roared to life.
Tires screamed against the pavement, leaving twin trails of scorched rubber.
The Jeep rocketed forward, leaving the Wolves’ den shrinking rapidly in the rearview mirror before vanishing entirely around a winding bend in the road.
The Wolves watching from afar stood in stunned silence.
After a long pause, someone finally spoke.
“Why did the young miss go with that guy so willingly?” “No clue.” “That bastard is as good as dead.” —— York checked the mirror one last time.
The hideout was gone.
Completely out of sight.
He let out a long, shuddering exhale and wiped the sweat beading on his forehead.
Then, unable to contain himself any longer, he burst into triumphant laughter.
“Ha!
Finally safe.
What a bunch of morons, they actually let me walk right out of there.” “You said it,” a voice agreed, laced with equal parts exasperation and weary amusement.
“Sometimes, with subordinates like these, even I find it quite exhausting.” York nodded instinctively, carried along by the conversation.
“Tell me about it.
You know, you’d be better off hiring me as a personal bodyguard.
I guarantee top-tier professionalism and loyalty!
I’ve been training since I was a ch–” He stopped dead.
A cold prickle crept up his spine.
Logically speaking, barring ghosts, demons, or any other supernatural nonsense, there should only be one person in this car.
Him.
‘So then…
whose voice was that?’ York’s foot slammed the brake pedal.
SCREECH!
The Jeep jerked to a violent stop, tires skidding against the asphalt.
Slowly, mechanically, he turned his head toward the passenger seat.
There sat Catherine.
Seatbelt fastened.
Arms crossed.
A lazy, mocking smile curling at the corners of her lips.
Her eyes glinted with open amusement as she watched him squirm.
“What in the actual hell!!” York rubbed his eyes furiously.
No mistake.
She was real.
His survival instincts kicked in.
He lunged, intending to grab her before she could react.
The next instant, a cold, black gun barrel pressed firmly against his forehead.
“These aren’t tranquilizer darts,” Catherine said sweetly.
“Care to test that theory?” York froze mid-lunge.
Slowly, with great dignity, he straightened back into his seat and arranged his face into the most pathetic, ingratiating smile he could muster.
“Hehehe…
hey, look at this little misunderstanding!
If you’d just told me you were packing heat, we could’ve saved ourselves all this trouble!” Catherine arched an eyebrow and gestured lazily with the pistol toward the steering wheel.
“Drive.” York had no idea what game Catherine was playing, but one thing was painfully clear, he wasn’t in charge anymore.
A wave of crushing despair washed over him.
He’d thought he’d escaped.
All that running, all that relief, it had been nothing but a beautiful dream.
The whole hostage routine earlier?
Catherine had been yanking his chain from the very beginning.
Give him hope.
Then crush it.
That woman was vicious.
York eased his foot onto the gas pedal, his expression twisted into something uglier than tears.
“Got it!
Hold tight!
Uh…
heading back to the mansion?” “No.” Catherine twirled the pistol idly between her fingers.
“We’re playing a game instead.” York’s heart jolted with cautious hope.
“What kind of game?” “You kidnapped me,” she said matter-of-factly.
“My people will come looking.” She held up the finger he’d bitten earlier, the teeth marks still clearly visible, a souvenir of their first encounter.
“Here’s the deal.
You last one day without getting caught by my men.
If you win, I forget about that little love bite.
Sound fair?” York swallowed hard.
“And…
if I lose?” Catherine’s smile turned razor-sharp.
“Then my men might just turn you into a very expensive piece of Swiss cheese.” A cold shiver crawled down York’s neck.
It felt like someone had grabbed him by the scruff and was holding him dangling over a pit of spikes.
Was this really happening?
Some rich girl’s spontaneous game of hide-and-seek?
But he didn’t have a choice.
This was the only lifeline he had left.
“Fine…
deal.
So, uh…
what do we do now?” Catherine rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they stayed in their sockets.
“What do you mean, ‘what now’?” she scoffed.
“You’re the kidnapper, genius.
Figure it out.” “Oh.
Right.
Yeah.
Of course.” York wiped the sweat off his brow and ventured carefully, “So…
first step, find somewhere safe to hole up?” Catherine gazed out the window at the passing scenery, utterly indifferent.
“I’m your captive, remember?
Do whatever you want.” York was quiet for a moment.
Then a thought struck him.
“Ehh do you have any money?” “Money?” Catherine’s lip curled with disdain.
“Naturally.
My wealth is beyond measure.” “No, I mean…” York shook his head impatiently.
“Do you have any cash on you?
Right now?” “Oh.” Catherine patted her pockets and produced a single crisp bill.
“Just this one.
What for?” York’s eyes lit up.
“That should be enough.” He plucked it from her fingers and stuffed it into his own pocket without asking.
Catherine raised an eyebrow.
“What are you buying?” “You said I could do whatever I wanted, right?” York rubbed his hollow stomach with the resignation of a condemned man.
“At the very least, before I die, I want to die with a full belly.” That was only half a lie, he was genuinely starving.
His last meal had been some dry bread on the train, a lifetime ago.
“Have you eaten breakfast yet, miss?” Catherine leaned against the window frame, her profile cool and untouchable in the shifting light.
“No.
Some idiot woke me up at the crack of dawn and ruined my entire morning.” Her voice was flat, but York could hear the simmering irritation beneath.
He laughed awkwardly and didn’t respond.
Patting his pockets, he realized with a groan that his phone was gone.
Probably dropped somewhere in that mad scramble earlier.
No map.
No directions.
No backup plan.
He’d just have to drive until he found someplace to eat.
Lucky for him, a sign soon appeared up ahead, Bug Burger.
York’s mouth practically watered.
He’d heard rumors about this place for years.
They used insect protein in everything, and supposedly it was incredible.
He pulled to the curb, hopped out, and hurried around to Catherine’s door, opening it with the obsequious eagerness of a well-trained lapdog.
“We’re here, Miss!” “Here?” Catherine wrinkled her nose.
She’d never set foot in a place like this.
Fast food was beneath her, processed garbage for the masses.
And the name alone made her skin crawl.
‘Bug Burger.
They served bugs.
Those squirming, twitching little horrors that scuttled across dirty floors.
Disgusting.’ “Yeah!” York nodded enthusiastically, already heading inside without noticing her revulsion.
When he realized she hadn’t followed, he poked his head back out and waved frantically.
“Hurry up, It’s Thursday, burgers are half off!” Catherine sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose.
Why, exactly, was she subjecting herself to this ridiculous game?
Maybe it was boredom.
The manor was so dreadfully dull.
Or maybe it was because no one had ever treated her so casually before, with such disregard for her station.
“Fine,” she muttered.
“Not like I have anywhere better to be.” She stepped through the doors of Bug Burger.