don't look at me like that
don't come any closer

I had always felt a different kind of force with Vernon.

Even if I stood a few feet away from him, it felt like a unique energy was pulling me towards him, like our essences had been bound unlike no two souls in the universe had. It was our own, unusual gravity, but I wasn't the one exuding it. Every time we touched, every moment my eyes could seek him out, I felt it. I felt him pull me in.

I felt it then.

The three long years I had spent away from him had diluted the feeling--it wasn't that I didn't feel his pull anymore, but it had a lot of competition. I had ignored it, fought it even, and the sudden realization of what his mere presence could do to me left me reeling.

For a few seconds, I didn't move.

The possibility that Vernon was there, that he was real, instead of just a figment of my imagination, was both comforting and frightening.

Then a car horn honked, and I was yanked back to reality. Hesitating, I almost stepped back, but pain stabbed through my ankle before I could move it fully, and I stumbled.

Vernon's brows drew together in concern, and he extended his hand towards me, gesturing for me to grab on to it. This time, I didn't second-guess myself—I knew I didn't have the time for that. Instead, I reached towards him, quietly hoping that his hand wouldn't fade away when I touched it.

It didn't.

Choose me.

As soon as my skin came in contact with his, time ran faster. It was like putting on prescription glasses: everything became clearer and defined, my senses becoming focused—as if this was the one thing that had been missing from the circuit.

I gasped from the fire of the touch and the pain in my ankle, as he pulled me into the already-moving car and slammed the door shut behind me.

He stepped on the gas before I could strap myself in, and was thrown against the back of the shotgun seat as a result. My heartbeat was still sprinting at a crazy rate, fueled by being so close to him, a drug that had been missing from my life for the past three years.

Three years since you ran from him.

My eyes found Vernon before I found the thought, but it was forgotten as soon as I saw him. His eyes were trained on the road before him, focused and unfocused at the same time, like he could sense I was staring at him. I couldn't help it. I knew I had missed him, despite all he had done, all the blood he had on his hands because of me. My mind was a desert, and he was an oasis of safety.

I couldn't breathe.

"I..." I started, then stopped, tongue darting out to wet my chapped lips. All it took was a single look to forget the sting of the cut on my cheek, the fear and desperation that had gripped me so strongly not even minutes ago. I wanted to touch him, to feel every inch of him, to cut him open to make sure he bled, to let myself believe that he was there, that he was real. "Vernon."

His eyes flickered to mine, and stayed there for a second before he looked away again. His features were taut with pain, reflecting how hard he was trying to hold himself back. From what? I thought I knew.

"Chwe." The sudden voice jarred me, bringing me back to reality yet again. "Pass me the mags."

I blanched. Of course there was someone else in there, I thought to myself as heat crawled up my neck. Great. All I needed was a stranger to think of me as a crazed weakling who couldn't even hold her own against a rowdy crowd.

Without turning, Vernon threw a packet over his shoulder, and I blinked a few times to make sure I was awake. The tires of the car screeched against the road as he made a sharp turn, and I was pushed against the door with no warning.

"Shit," I muttered, breathing hard. Shaking myself from my stupor, I glanced at the rearview mirror to identify the source of the third voice, and did a double-take.

A girl with short blonde hair leaned against the backseat, reloading a weapon that lay across her lap. She wasn't dressed for the occasion, unless short, fitting dresses were good for shooting at the enemy, but her hands flew over the parts, loading in the magazines with ease.

As I watched in surprise, her eyes met mine for a split second. Blank. She offered me no words of greeting, not even a fleeting emotion on her small features, before leaning her torso out of the window and taking aim at a target behind the car.

"Duck," she called out, calm voice almost lost in the screaming wind.

I didn't register the meaning of her words until the first shot rang out through the air, followed immediately by the sound of shattering glass. Gasping in shock, I grasped the side of the seat to curl into a fetal position, pulling up my legs and placing my head between my knees.

The blonde unloaded a rapid round at the attacker in a series of eardrum-shattering shots, each seemingly louder than the previous one. My shoulders caved in further, heart thudding against my chest because of a different reason.

Another shot whistled past just behind me, punching through the rearview mirror. Vernon jerked the wheel to the side, and I grabbed the seat to prevent myself from being thrown again. The car was humming all around me, as if it were alive, but it didn't thrill me at that moment. I had more to be scared of than to be excited about.

The car behind us released another volley of gunshots, none of them managing to hit me, but each of them elevating my heartbeat and level of fear. Blood seeped through the material of my sleeve where it touched the cut on my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my free hand against my ear in a weak attempt to cut off the sound. "Not again," I whimpered. Please.

The sound was only loud enough for me to have heard it, but Vernon's eyes snapped to me for a split second. He opened his mouth, looking like he was struggling to divide his concentration between the road and my pitiful self. Again, the car lurched, turning at a scary angle and pushing me into the seat.

"Just..." He bit his lip. "Keep your head down. And trust me."

I wanted to say something, but the thought was soon lost in the screams resounding inside my head. Panting, I did as he instructed, biting down hard on my lip and hoping the pain would distract me from the chaos that ensued all around me.

He revved the engine, and the car sped up. There was the unmistakable sound of cars colliding, loud and clear despite the large distance, the sound of crushing metal and brittle glass breaking. Vernon's knuckles were pale, barely visible in my peripheral vision, fingers wrapped around the gearhead as he jerked it to the side in a single, fluid motion.

I didn't even realize that the blonde woman had abandoned her post at the window until she called out to me. "You can get up now," she said, leaning over me. "We're in the open."

Though I had no doubt that she was right, there was still a part of me which was scared stiff; I was too afraid to get up, but I did as I was told. The muscles in my back, coiled like springs ready to lunge, relaxed, and I winced at the sound my shoulder made as I unwound myself from my tightly curled position, sitting up in the seat and looking around hesitantly.

We were out in the open all right.

We were cruising (or maybe cruising wasn't the most efficient word to describe our speed) along a grassland, away from a deserted highway. There was no light except the one from the car's headlights and taillights, illuminating the pathless ground in front of us. The car bumped and jerked a little in some patches of dirt, but overall, it was a smooth ride. The only problem, though, was obvious and looming.

Where are we going?

The question remained at the tip of my tongue, and I would have asked it, had I not recognized the glittering sea in the distance. The car was running along the coast ringing the beach, the thin strip of land separating the highway and the sandy portion.

My brow furrowed, brain jumping from one doubt to another in the matter of a few seconds. As for why we had taken this path, I feared I already knew the answer. To hide ourselves from any other cars that could have been tailing us. I still had no idea what destination Vernon had in mind, but I sure as hell wasn't going to ask him that, given the circumstances, and people, surrounding us.

As discreetly as possible, I glanced behind me. The girl was still sitting in the backseat, fingers resting on the trigger of a loaded gun just in case we faced another attack. Her expression seemed odd, vacant and absorbed at the same time. Questions crowded in my mind, but I hesitated, not knowing whether my present company would appreciate them or have the patience to answer them.

"Yeeun." The girl said, and my eyes flitted away from her to Vernon, then back to her. How many people had joined the racers while I was gone? Or was Yeeun yet another member that I hadn't known about? "Don't bother introducing yourself—I know all there is to know about you, Hwang Y/N."

I cringed at her use of my surname, then let my shoulders relax. No use being hostile towards a stranger who could very well turn that very dangerous weapon on me. "Good to know."

"Yeeun is a contract killer," Vernon spoke up, and my heart did a flip at the sound of his voice. "She's been following you ever since you landed here. Just thought you should know that, before you discover it yourself and go off on me."

The way he said it was achingly familiar, so familiar that I almost smiled. His use of personal pronouns reminded me of the not-so-good old days, of our friendly banter and how I used to single him out as if it was all his fault—but in my defence, it usually was.

I let out a long breath, feeling my chest constrict painfully. The dilemma only grew with his supposedly casual comment. On one hand, I was angry at him sending a killer to tail me. But then, it wasn't too surprising. And I knew he had only done it to protect me, but I knew what else he had done in his lifetime for the very same. He had made me doubt myself, killed the man I had once loved.

To protect you.

I turned away from both of them, closing my eyes and leaning back against the seat. This was too much for one day, too much for me to deal with even if I had innumerable days to process it. I cared about him, of course I fucking cared, which was what had made it so hard for me to leave in the first place. But how could he expect to just walk back into my life after three years of not being there, and have me welcome him as if nothing had ever happened?

"Why are you here?" I whispered as I reopened my eyes, feeling pressure build at the back of my eyes. Great. That was all I needed, crying like a weakened idiot.

Vernon's lips parted. He looked at me then, concern reflecting in his eyes, like he was readying himself to say something, but couldn't. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, but his hands fluttered at the wheel as we pulled into the driveway.

"We're here," he said, voice thick with emotion.

My driveway.

Yeeun cocked the gun, her eyes moving from the gun to mine. "Come on, Hwang," she said, voice placid, as if nothing had just happened. "Your old friends are waiting for you."

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it's been a long time since i updated (sorry about that) but i hope i haven't lost you guys yet :'' please don't let this book flop i beg thee

this will be a pretty fast-paced book in comparison to the slow burn that was Rush, so you'll have to process a lot in a short time lol

thoughts on this chapter? anything/anyone you're looking forward to? i'd love to hear you guys' thoughts so comment as much as possible !!

love,
Manx.