dark red dye dripped from the tips of her hair, each bead sliding off like fresh blood. the midnight blue roots kissed the sun bitten nape of her neck, skin a shade too warm for the gilded debut her family scripted.
wet hair, naked throat. time didn't slow for a girl slated to become a trophy tonight.
tonight, she was supposed to get engaged. engaged to the rival family's heir, the same genteel psychopath who once had a drunk underling pitch a dog's head into her yard.
real cute, cabrón.
latex gloves slapped the sink, she hunted for the tiny bottle of color seal serum. precision? nah. just enough shine so if her body ever hit asphalt strangers would whisper, "at least her hair looks fire."
a helmet waited under the vanity. bike keys wedged beneath a lacy black bra she only wore when danger felt like perfume.
credit cards sat neat in a mini leather wallet, all in her name, none traceable, each balance fat with a billion kiss stolen from mom and dad. not even a blip on their radar. satisfying as hell.
two knocks on the door. heavy. southern. "missy," the drawl seeped through old wood, slow. "he's here. they say you better look pretty."
a smile slashed her mouth, half amused, half ready to gag. pretty was for dolls, poison came in lace.
"give me a damn minute, Zay," she fired back, lilt bending consonants like hips. "tryna look dead inside for my fiancé."
his low chuckle leaked through the panel. of course he laughed. he loved her angry, fool loved her everything.
but tonight wasn't about him.
tonight was about disappearing.
she tugged a plain white slip from her bra, no sexy, all intent. she'd drafted it that afternoon, expecting guilt. instead the words sprinted from the pen as if they'd always lived under her nails.
—to the man who guarded me like gold… you're better than the bastards who own this house. if i come back broken, let it be your arms that fix me… or shatter me worse. either way beats marrying that walking war crime tonight.
p.s. don't look for me.—
fold. tuck it behind Zayred's holstered pistol at the desk corner. he'd find it. probably sniff it first. freak.
zipper teeth rasped up her leather jacket, zzrrp slicing the hush.
no makeup. no costume. just instinct and venom.
nothing left behind. shelves stripped. devices trashed. cameras nudged off angle. digital footprint wiped cleaner than a high school crush.
window up. night air barged in, reeking of gasoline and frangipani. three stories down waited concrete.
no hesitation. one boot on the sill, messenger bag slung tight. breath held, once. this wasn't escape. this was rebirth.
she grinned, vicious and bright. let's see how that bastard copes when his fiancée vanishes with dripping hair.
and saelyn jumped, time stretching thin as a violin string, every heartbeat a hammer, every drop of water a tiny detonator, into the dark that tasted like freedom.
three floors down isn't math, it's a distance that rattles bone against boot heels.
the ground hits hard, her left knee pulses like a snare drum. metal in her wrist sings a sharp, petty melody, but nothing's broken. sprain…? whatever. ambulance is off the menu tonight.
thick grass kisses her jeans as she crawls into the garden's shadow. she moves sideways, limping, right arm the spare jack under a busted chassis.
mud parts around the edge of her boots, wet earth flirting with the expensive perfume still ghosting her collar, sweet, wrong, perfect.
past the oleander hedge squats her monster. an old, black ducati she's been nursing like a secret stray.
the tank sits warm, she pre heated the engine earlier, just passing the garage with fake class notes in hand. a small, ticking intention hides there, folded between bogus homework and middle fingers.
mansion lights jitter across treetops. up there, windows blaze. the engagement banquet's minutes from curtain. good. every eye on crystal, none on the princess pocketing the shine.
left leg slides, joint squeaks. shut up, we're moving. hand dives into her jacket, comes out with a travel size pain spray. one hiss of ice, burn flips to numb. no spreadsheet, just impulse.
helmet on. she toes the starter, engine growls, she snaps it silent. not yet, mija.
security still parades at the front gate, spotlights comb the cobblestones. she angles toward the side fence, a blind zone she once dated with a screwdriver and bad intentions.
two meter iron now hangs by one lonely hinge. heavy as family promises, heavy, but promises crack.
shoulder wedges in, a grunt kept on low volume. hinge slides, metal sighs, settles. a black mouth wide enough for one bike, one jailbreak.
path shifts from dirt to gravel. she walks the ducati out, tires kissing public asphalt. quiet street, just cicadas and her pulse. when the security beam sweeps away, she swings on, twists the key.
engine roars, like a bourbon soaked singer, rough and loyal. throttle rolls. back tire spits gravel, her aching wrist presses the brake the way she treats gossip, ignored. night air slashes her cheeks, gasoline tang mixing with raw victory.
in the mirror, the mansion shrinks. third floor ballroom dims to a pinprick. try slapping a ribbon on that, she smirks behind the visor, see if it still calls itself pretty.
bike rips forward, cutting a growl through midnight. city road opens, streetlights strobe like applause. one hot bite in the wrist, then endorphins win. jaw locks, green eyes narrow, stacked with plans god forgot to draft.
fiancé? wrong story. rival families? new genre. this is a runaway party, one way ticket. Saelyn Rhaemor dances on hot exhaust, hair still dripping, hell fading small in the mirror.
crystal cut light slashed across her skin, chandelier glare breaking on the slick champagne flute clutched too tight in her fingers.
the party breathed in waltz time. overpriced roses in every vase, gossip sugar coated till it cracked on teeth. ivory satin hid the ink on her back, yet her shoulders still flared wild, danger glittered at the dip of that spine.
marble caught a heavier rhythm. her so called fiancé arrived like the room had always been his. Rhazen Druvalcyn, two meters of muscle in a charcoal suit that could've used a bigger coffin.
black ring on his index, family crest. light glanced off it, sharp as a warning. those pale brown eyes locked on her the way a predator locks when prey finally stops running.
"ay, señorita Rhaemor." baritone, smoothed, "rumor said you'd be divine. rumor sells itself short."
she knocked back her champagne, one gulp, bubbles carving a cold route down her throat. half smile. "rumors stay paid to hype. you buyin or sellin?" the edges in her voice broke sentences like ribs, deliberately rough against all this silk.
he closed the gap. oud and gunpowder ghosted off him. broad shoulders stole the chandelier from her sight, shrinking the whole ballroom to two breathing bodies.
"buying," he said, easy drawl that didn't fool his blown pupils. "whole stock, if you're takin offers."
her green eyes slid to the faint scar across his cheek, proof life had punched back. one finger traced the rim of her empty glass, scritching fog from crystal.
not planned. just impulse. he swallowed, his gaze dropped to the claw polish scratching ice into the stem.
"whole stock, huh? bold move."
an eyebrow hitch. "price tag's heavy, chico. y'all got the credit?" stolen millions hummed quiet in her purse, the exit plan hung, unspoken, like a commuter train she'd already heard arriving.
"family's good for it." accent dipped, lion lazy. "question is, are you good for me?"
strings swelled, dancers wheeled. Saelyn stepped once, satin brushing her calves.
she leaned in, peach and danger on her breath. "depends what good means where you're from, señor." words glittered mercury, pretty, poisonous.
his grin pulled the scar. "something between obedience and war."
"obedience is a yawn," she soft laughed, molars sharp. "war… kinda my kink."
his low chuckle rattled a passing waiter's tray. he slicked hair back, eyes on fire. "then tonight, we toast a war in silk."
heart hit rib once, hard. under the table her phantom hand flipped her watch, slid the pin free, tiny timed grenade on a golden cuff. one imperfect choice, ticking.
"guess we need fresh drinks." she grabbed a new bottle, let foam flood his glass. a spill glazed her knuckles.
she licked the stray drop, slow, tongue cherry red locking on the king across from her.
Rhazen's inhale cut sharp, like a bullet hissed past. sweet lie on his mouth: "salud… to an unforgettable beginning."
glass met glass, ting, angelic, almost innocent. gold liquid flashed in the cut crystal, knifing green into her irises.
she drank. bitter slid over her tongue. bitter kept her awake. tonight wasn't a beginning, it was the overture to a vanishing.
across the room Zayred, louisiana steel, stood rigid, ocean blue eyes reading every word her lips hadn't said. she tossed him a sugar poison smile, just honest enough to sell, just cruel enough to keep.
no explanations. not yet.
time crawled, stretching thin, sweet, lethal.
streetlights strobe across her visor, gold ribbons shredding the dark. fiancée, the word slaps around Saelyn's skull, jagged like reef rock. not gonna happen, pendejo.
a horn, long, needle sharp, cuts through her drift.
too late.
white glare floods in from the right, high beams off some beat up sedan, hotter than every lamp on the boulevard. time snaps, seconds crumble into slow, glittering shrapnel.
alcohol stench, raw, whips through a half cracked window… brake scream, dry, teeth skating useless on asphalt… her own voice in the helmet. oh, hell…
impact.
metal shrieks, flings her skyward. weightless, cloth doll tossed to the moon. night air hugs her for half a heartbeat, then earth rises, greedy.
bushes catch her back, thorns kiss arms, but the pop of bone never comes. just a quake in every cell, then ringing hush.
the ducati skitters, sparks skimming tar. the gray sedan pinwheels, kisses a garden fence, hood folding like cheap origami. its own alarm bawls off key.
she lies curled, visor down. breath stays short, chest pumping rabbit fast. gasoline slicks the air, metal tang crowds her mouth, lip's busted, maybe.
still breathing. good. thigh throbs, not broken. eyes shut, ears open, a door claps, someone staggers.
"dios mío… what the…" man's voice, wrecked, fragments drowning in bourbon. belt buckle clacks, shoes scrape gravel.
she slits her eyes enough to catch him, middle aged belly, hands shaking around a dead phone, forgot to power the damn light. knuckles split, whisky tangled with melting plastic.
stay down, muñeca. chew one shuddered gasp, let it sound like hope cracking. head lolls, visor angles, broken bird vibe, not soap opera dramatic.
steam snakes off the sedan. hazard lights blink, amber, amber, syncing with her pulse. a dog howls, a bike slows, curious.
the drunk spins, choking on "oh god, oh god…" phone slips, clacks on the tarmac.
grass dampens her cheek fresh cut scent fights the petrol. copper coats her tongue, she lets a drop slide warm along her chin. breath eases shallow, fragile. don't overplay it, girl, half a breath sells the illusion.
blinking hazards flicker across cracked polycarbonate. in that glass she glimpses her own iris, green, feral, alive. a hush flash of secret.
sirens, distant, hunting, taste the night. the man babbles, "she, she jumped, i couldn't…" vomit sweet panic in every syllable.
she seals her eyes, lets a tremor skitter down her fingers. a smirk tries to bloom, hit target, zero witnesses awake, but fades quick, buried under fake ache pounding her temple. play the part. let the night work.
first rain taps, cold needles, soft, drugging the gas stink into hazy mist. each drop sharpens her focus, not dulls it.
blue red swirls curve into view, growing. she allows a ragged whisper, prayer or curse, who can tell, while vision dims by choice and by maybe.
siren light splashes her helmet, splitting the world, one side web cracked, the other clean. between those shards a ghost smile twitches at her mouth's edge.