Page 44 of Doyle

A car skidded to a stop behind me. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see a door fly open and a pair of strong hands grab me, yanking me inside.

Panic surged through me. The first car was a decoy, I thought in shock.

"No," I whispered, struggling to get away, but it was too late.

I was already inside the vehicle, the door slamming shut behind me.

The world outside blurred as the car sped away, my heart pounding with fear and adrenaline.

Calm down, I yelled at myself, trying to soothe my panicking inner fox.

"Relax, Michael, I'm just here to deliver a personal message to you," said a smug voice.

I recognized the pale-skinned, dark-haired warlock sitting next to me, but I couldn't remember his name.

My mind was in panic mode. This wasn't real, I kept thinking. I finally got out... I didn't deserve to go through this again.

I clenched my fists by my side, trying my best to summon my fox, but it wouldn't come out. Coward, I thought bitterly.

"What do you—what does Liliana want, Morgan?" I demanded, finally recalling the warlock's name.

Morgan was Helena's student, I remembered. My mind raced in a billion places.

I thought of how I broke down in the store, the look of pity in Stan's eyes, and my father's.

I couldn't stand the way they saw me, like I was a fragile piece of glass that had to be handled carefully.

"The letter I slipped into your letterbox was just us reminding you we haven't forgotten you," Morgan said cheerfully.

At my silence, he continued, “After what you and your dragon shifter friends did to Helena, I could kill you right now, but lucky you, you're still Liliana's favorite. She wants you to know she can't wait to see you again."

My mind blanked at those words.

Eventually, I asked, feeling numb, "Are you taking me to her right now?"

"Not at all, I just took you for a drive," Morgan said. "Liliana still has a purpose for you, you know? Gordon, stop the car."

The car door opened, revealing the front of my house. Dazed, I stumbled out of the car, confused by what had happened.

I was still staring at the departing vehicle when my dad came running out the front door and pulled me into a tight hug.

"Michael, are you okay? What happened?" he asked, his voice filled with worry.

"I... I'm fine," I lied, my voice shaky. "He just... he just wanted to talk."

"Just talk? Who was it?" my dad demanded, his grip tightening.

I couldn’t speak just yet, I was still trying to process what just happened.

A brassy roar came from above, and somehow, hearing that familiar sound calmed my racing heart.

My dad looked awestruck—few things impressed my old man.

A large shadow covered the next house over as an angry black dragon landed and perched on our roof, majestic wings spread wide.

"You called Doyle?" I asked my dad, who was still staring at the dragon in wonder.

My dad snapped out of it and looked at me.

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