Page 110 of Forsaken Oath

“She’s still within the maze, but that’s all I know.”

“Fuck. Okay, I’m heading that way. Keep me on track,” I say, my voice tight as I whip the Hellcat east.

I strain to see ahead, praying for a glimpse of her car, of any sign that she’s okay. The pillar of dark smoke grows larger, the acrid stench of burning rubber and gasoline filling my nostrils even through the closed windows. Dread curdles in my gut, souring into full-blown panic with each passing second.

“C’mon, where are you, baby?” I murmur.

“Go left,” Graham directs. “Her signal is about a quarter mile ahead.”

I yank the wheel, the Hellcat fishtailing before straightening out. My heart pounds against my ribs, fear a living thing clawing and shredding my gut.

“She should be just ahead,” Graham says, his voice clipped.

I barely hear him over the thundering of my pulse in my ears. The smoke grows thicker, stinging my eyes and throat. I squint through the haze, desperate for any sign of her. And then I see it: the back end of a car, crumpled against the trunk of a large oak tree. Smoke pours from the crushed hood, flames licking up the trunk.

My heart stops as I slam on the brakes, the Hellcat skidding to a halt in a cloud of dirt and smoke. For a moment, I can't breathe, can't think beyond the all-consuming terror gripping my chest.

“Talk to me, Beau,” Graham says.

“Fuck,” I say on an exhale.

“Did you find her?”

“It’s not her,” I whisper. “She’s not here.” I clear my throat and look around. The driver isn’t in the car, so someone elsemust’ve stopped before me. “Where is she?” I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white.

The brief moment of relief at seeing the wrecked car wasn't Eloise's is quickly swallowed by renewed fear. If she's not here, then where the hell is she? And why isn't her car moving?

“Her signal is stationary, about an eighth of a mile northeast of you,” Graham says, his voice tense. “Take the next right and floor it.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I slam the gear shift and hit the gas. The Hellcat roars as I take the sharp right, tires clawing at the dirt. My heart pounds a staccato rhythm against my ribs, fear and adrenaline a dizzying cocktail in my veins.

“You should be coming up on her any second now,” Graham says, his voice confident and even.

The trees thin, revealing a small clearing bathed in the fading light of dusk. And there, in the center of it all, is her car.

The back quarter panel took some damage, but her car isn’t on fire. So I’m calling it a fucking win.

“Found her.”

“Good. Is she okay?”

“I think so. I gotta go,” I mutter. “I’m out of the maze, so let’s keep this chat between us. Oh, and Graham? Thank you.”

“You’re my brother,” he says before he ends the call.

I swing the Hellcat next to her and ignore everyone celebrating in the clearing. I don’t bother counting the cars. I don’t particularly give a fuck where I placed right now.

I’m out of the car and yanking open her driver’s side door in five seconds flat.

She startles, jumping in her chair. “Beau?”

“Oh thank fuck,” I breathe out, dropping to my knees and leaning into her car. My gaze runs over her, my hands following, making sure she’s really in one piece.

“What’s going on?” she murmurs, her palms landing on the back of my hands, still them around her waist. “Hey, hey, talk to me.”

I drop my forehead to her thighs and exhale. “Fuck, Peach. I was so worried about you,” I mumble without lifting my head.

Her fingers tunnel through my hair in soft, smooth swipes. “I’m alright, see?”

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