Page 116 of Psychopath

The door to the van slammed shut, clicking from the outside.

“Clint?”

The van shook. Clint didn’t respond, but there were shouts outside, stamping feet.

The driver’s door snapped closed, and there was Virgil, still cuffed, hissing out curses as he turned the key left behind in the ignition.

“Virgil?” Quinn gaped in disbelief.

The engine rumbled to life, and Quinn fell back, crashing to the floor as Virgil slammed his foot down on the accelerator.

“Quinn!” Zane shouted. “What’s going on?”

Quinn was thrown left to right as Virgil tore through the car park, smashing into whatever got in his way.

He collided with the door to Zane’s cubicle with a grunt.

“Quinn!”

“It’s Virgil,” he gasped. “He’s… He’s…”

“Driving the van?” Zane finished when they took another sharp corner. Quinn heard sirens screeching behind them as he struggled up, clambering to the front where he could see Virgil through the small window.

“Virgil—”

“Shut up, Quinn,” he snapped. “And you might just make it out of this alive…”

20

They narrowly avoided a bus, which swerved and tipped from the momentum.

The crash as it hit the ground, followed by the ear-splitting sound of it scraping against the tarmac, dropped Quinn to his knees. He gaped, imagining the casualties. Car horns were blaring, people called out, and Quinn could still pick out the sirens, although they became muffled by other noises, fading while the van whipped past other vehicles and left help behind.

Quinn’s heart thundered behind his ribs, and his breathing hitched. It didn’t feel real. He dug his nails into his palms, wanting to wake up, pressing so hard crescents of blood appeared.

Virgil’s mind was chaos, and he left chaos in his wake.

Zane thumped on the door of his cubicle, demanding to know what was going on, asking Quinn to confirm he was unharmed and pleading with Virgil to put an end to the madness.

Virgil couldn’t hear him, and Quinn had quickly learned telling Zane he was okay didn’t calm him down in the slightest. Zane threw his weight at the door, cursing under his breath when the lock wouldn’t give.

Quinn struggled back to his feet. He gripped the back of a seat, the one Cleo had been sat on earlier, as he pressed himself to the window separating him from Virgil.

“You have no plan,” he said.

“I’m going to find him,” Virgil barked back, flashing a furious look at Quinn over his shoulder. “I’ll kill anyone that gets in my way.”

“I’m not trying to get in the way of you finding Luca—”

“Good.”

“But you have no idea where he is. I doubt…I doubt he’s even in this country anymore.”

Virgil’s shoulders sagged. “Somebody knows where he is.”

“Somebody,” Quinn agreed. “But I’ve got no idea who. Listen to me, I know how much he means to you—”

“You have no idea, Quinn, no idea.”

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