Page 51 of You've Got The Love
“They found us.” My voice is low, hard.
Amber jerks toward the window, her breath catching. “What do we do?”
“Drive.”
I slam my foot down on the accelerator, and the van surges forward with a guttural roar.
The bikes fall in behind us immediately, engines screaming, closing fast. My pulse pounds in rhythm with the rain drumming on the roof. The road twists through dense forest, the trees leaning over like witnesses. Every instinct screams at me to keep moving, to not give them a straight shot.
The van jolts as I push it harder, skidding slightly on the wet surface.
“Bas!” Amber’s voice cracks. “Are they going to catch us?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. Not while I’m scanning the mirrors, watching one biker move closer, the other hanging back like a wolf waiting for its moment.
They split. One shoots forward along the oncoming lane, speeding ahead, while the other hangs tight on our tail. I see the first one slowing near a bend in the road—he’s trying to cut us off.
I slam the brakes just enough to keep control and wrench the wheel toward a narrow dirt track I spot between the trees.
“HOLD ON!”
The van lurches violently as we leave the asphalt, tyres slamming into mud and stones. Water splashes up the windows, branches scrape along the sides, and the suspension groans under the punishment. Amber gasps, grabbing the seat with both hands.
I push the van harder down the muddy path. The biker behind us follows but struggles to keep balance, back tyre fishtailing.Good. The rain-slick forest floor is on our side for once.
A fallen tree blocks part of the track ahead, and for a heartbeat, my stomach fucking drops. But there’s just enough space for the van to squeeze through. I take it, mud spraying across the windows. Behind us, the biker slows, almost tipping.
We climb a slick slope, the tyres spinning, and I can feel the van fighting me. My hands are iron on the wheel, jaw clenched, every muscle locked in survival mode.
We crest the rise, the van lurching forward, and finally—finally—the bikes fall out of sight behind the trees.
Amber’s exhale is shaky, her shoulders trembling. “That was… too close.”
I slow the van slightly, keeping my eyes on the track ahead. The forest closes around us, the rain softening to a drizzle. The danger feels distant but not gone.
“We’re not safe yet,” I mutter.
She nods, silent again, but I can feel the pounding of her heart in the charged quiet.
We drive for hours, winding deeper into the trees, both of us caught between vigilance and exhaustion. The rain lightens, then stops entirely, leaving only the hum of tyres and the occasional whisper of branches brushing the roof. My hands stay tight on the wheel, every muscle taut.
Amber breaks the silence at one point, her voice quiet and raw. “I can’t believe my dad lives with this. All the time. Always looking over his shoulder.”
I glance at her, but she’s staring out the window at the blur of trees, her expression unreadable. I don’t need to answer—she already knows the truth.
I keep driving until I spot a small clearing by a stream, half-hidden by dense pines. I turn off the engine, and the sudden silence rings in my ears. My hands are stiff around the wheel. It takes a moment to force them to let go.
Amber stares out the window for a long moment, then turns toward me. Her eyes are wide but clear, like she’s forcing herself to be brave.
“Bas… can we talk?”
I run a hand over my damp hair and nod. “Yeah.”
She hesitates, chewing her lip. “It means more than you know… that you’re here. With me. That you chose to help me. Choseme.”
I swallow, my chest tight. “You really want to have this chat now?”
“I need a distraction,” she says, looking at me shyly.
