3 Collision Course

Riya’s POV

But sharp footsteps, two at a time, cut across the gravel behind me as a cold beam of light swung across the green trees that lined up above me, with the clipped voices moving closer.

I pressed my back harder against the stone, trying to steady my shallow breath.

I shoved one of my heels into my hand and flung it hard across the opposite side of the lot so it would hit metal and sing, causing the sound to slice through the night and draw the men's attention; I abandoned the other heel without looking back and followed the light that led towards the lot. 

My feet went numb to the cool cobbles, but I kept on moving faster than fear would let me think.

The hidden route spat me out at the private parking lot with rows of hulking machines lined up, and yes, they even had a private patch for cars that smelled faintly of oil and leather. 

I kept low, whispering past a massive monster truck until a motorcycle in the corner caught my eye, and beside the front tire, half-hidden in shadow, lay a dark briefcase.

This wasn't the time to hesitate, so I dropped to my knees, slid the case flat, and popped the latches. 

Carefully arranged inside were a compact stun gun with a buzzy edge, a pepper spray canister, a heavy LED baton, a tactical flashlight that smelled faintly of ozone, and a handful of other things that blinked and clicked in ways I didn't need to name to know they were useful. 

I swallowed, seeing as my heart kept on beating faster.

I wanted to snatch a glance at all the strange gadgets scattered before me as a dozen odd contraptions stared back, begging to be figured out. If I had even a minute, maybe I could have made sense of their purposes.

But the voices frantically searching for me were closing in, pounding louder against the ground.

Wait a second—is that… a utility belt?

I froze, blinking at it, raising a brow. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered under my breath.

A sharp and quick laugh bubbled out of me. Not exactly the best timing, but wow, it was either that or cry. I slid the belt through my fingers; the leather felt smooth but sturdy, dotted with little compartments. “Good thing I’m a fan of Batman,” I whispered, snorting quietly.

I grinned wider than I should’ve in a situation where my life was hanging by a thread. The belt sat perfectly around my waist, snug above my dark blouse, and every pocket in that thing seemed made for the random junk that had been waiting inside the box.

And for the briefest, most idiotic moment, I forgot I was being hunted.

“EY, BAMBOLINA!”

The shout suddenly cracked the air.

I flinched, and that made my smile flatten in an instant. The voice was deep, sharp, and much too familiar.

Kelvin.

It rolled through the night from behind the hulking silhouette of the truck that hid me.

“I know you’re here somewhere, Bambolina!” he bellowed, as each word kept on ricocheting closer. “You’ve ruined this night. And you won’t like what I have in mind for you… and your incompetent father!”

My chest tightened.

“And if you value your life…, as well as his, you’ll obediently walk up to me this minute to make things right!” 

His pitch dipped now. “I’m sure you know what my father… and his boss, the Don… are capable of.”

Yeah, sure. Kelvin and his big, scary syndicate father. Always wagging his tail under orders, too cowardly to lift a finger without the Don, the phantom no one ever saw pulling his strings.

My lips twisted into a grimace. “Pathetic,” I muttered, though I kept it under my breath.

I scanned my surroundings desperately. There had to be somewhere… some way out. My legs trembled as I rose slowly from my crouch—

Clank.

The small bit of metallic sound shot through the night. But in the silence between Kelvin’s taunts, its sound was just as loud as a gunshot.

I froze.

“Ahh, there you are, Bambolina…” His voice sharpened with delight.

Damn it. Of course, he heard.

I crouched fast, around a racing heart, and scrambled for the thing that had betrayed me and my fingers closed around cool metal. A key. A motorbike key.

I blinked. Attached to it was a scrap of yellow paper dangling, and there was a note.

The handwriting looked sloppy and hurried, but it was definitely an address. My eyes squinted in the dark as I smudged out the barely legible words. None of it made sense until my gaze caught the last line.

“City of Ampang.”

Mateo. He wanted me to meet him there.

My pulse quickened for a different reason.

But I didn’t have the luxury of decoding messages right now, because Kelvin’s boots were pounding closer.

I clutched the key tighter, as panic crawled up my spine, and looked at the black, sleek, and dangerous bike before me.

I’ve never actually ridden a bike before. Not really. Unless, of course, you count hours wasted on my old motorcycle racing simulator. 

But this? This was the real thing. And right now, my sweaty palms and pounding heartbeat were making damn sure I remembered that.

Still… What choice did I have?

I swung a leg over the dark beast, feeling the cold from its leather seat beneath me. My fingers trembled as I yanked the helmet down over my head, sliding the visor shut with a sharp click that muffled the chaos around me.

I slid the key in, twisted it, and pressed the ignition.

The bike growled awake with a savage hiss, as the engine coughed once, roaring low and guttural. The vibrations climbed up through the frame and into my legs, humming through me, shaking my bones.

And then… his voice.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Kelvin stepped out, blocking the only clear path. In his hand, a long steel rod glinted under the dim streetlight, slicing through the smoke-flecked air as he swung it lazily from side to side.

“Get off that bike while I’m still nicely asking, Bambolina.” His voice was deep and menacing, with that thin veneer of fake politeness that made my skin crawl.

He lowered himself into a stance, angling the rod upward, now bracing it with both hands.