𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲

Chapter 37

— Chapter 37 —
Walking Corpse

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E L L I O T

Not once did my eyes didn't waver from that old television.

Sure, Noah had told me not to, but I couldn't look away even if I'd tried. The events unfolding on the screen kept me at the edge of my barstool, fingers trembling around the glass of vodka in my hands.

The two street-racers were still being broadcasted, making me wonder exactly what Noah was planning by leaving so abruptly.

I heard a few whispers behind me as I pulled Noah's black baseball cap further down my forehead. His jacket on my shoulders had been garnering attention, and not for the best reasons.

Someone muttered, "Why is he wearing that?"

"He's not even one of us," another agreed, their voice hardly above a whisper. "What is Edge thinking?"

Tugging on the hem of my sleeve, I felt the embarrassment in my bones and bit the side of my cheek. The double shot of vodka in my hands didn't feel like enough to calm my unstable nerves.

"Hey!" Someone called out. "That's him!"

My focus quickly centered on the TV screen. Trying to spot whatever had caught the biker's attention, I squinted slightly, making out the figure of a third motorcycle in the broadcast.

White sweater, black helmet, obsidian Kawasaki... Noah.

And from the looks of it, Marcus was right behind him on his dirt bike, with his scarlet helmet clear in the helicopter footage. The rain made the scene fuzzy, but there was no doubt in my mind that it was the two of them.

Noah and Marcus were going after the racers personally.

The realization made me worry plague my thoughts. He's going after them? But the storm is still raging... what if he gets hurt?

"Fuck yes!" Shooter called out behind me to everyone else in the bar. Gesturing to the TV screen, he added, "That's the Edge we know. Those pricks are done for."

"How fast are they going?" I asked Chains, who was sitting beside me calmly.

He had a beer resting on the bar counter, watching the screen with a critical gaze. Something about him felt off... like he was annoyed. But I couldn't decipher much. His expressions were typically impossible to read, and he just never seemed fazed by anything.

"At least one-fifty," he answered, before taking a swig of his beer.

My mind repeated the absurdity back to me as I watched Noah's dark figure on the screen. 150 miles? An hour? It's suicide!

"I got fifty bucks that he catches them," Splitter's voice called out somewhere in the back, cutting me quickly from my thoughts.

Leo scoffed. "In this rain? Hah, he'd have better luck catching a cold. You're on."

Eve rolled her eyes, polishing a glass not far down from me. "Do those two have nothing better to do?" She asked, her voice slightly hoarse.