Phantom Rider: The Aftermath | Book 1

The Aftermath

5 days later

Tom's POV, Czechia

Taylor was making dinner when a sudden noise startled her. She hurried to the door, finding Tom standing there with his bags slung over his shoulders, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

"You're home already?" she exclaimed, rushing to hug him. He stood still, unresponsive. "What's wrong?"

His posture remained motionless as the bags slipped from his shoulders, hitting the ground. Taylor removed his sunglasses, revealing puffy eyes and a completely dead looking face.

"Tom, what's going on? You're scaring me!" She guided him into the room, his body limp and barely moving.

"I... " His legs gave way, and he collapsed on the floor. Taylor knelt beside him.

"Taylor, I lost him... I lost him forever." His voice broke into frantic cries, filling the room with pain and sorrow. Taylor's face turned into terror and concern. "What did you do?"

He didn't answer, continuing to cry until he was breathless.

3 months later

Tom sat on the balcony of his apartment in Prague, staring at the city lights as time passed by, lost in thought. The autumn night was quiet, but his mind was racing. He lit another cigarette.

Since his brother's disappearance, Tom felt a constant emptiness, a void that nothing could fill. He couldn't accept that Bill was gone, that he actually left everything behind and took off. He had no idea where he was hiding, some days he stared at the door, hoping he would open it and walk in like nothing had ever happened.

Taylor slowly walked onto the balcony sitting next to him. "Thinking of Bill again?"

"I can't stop my mind. I know it was his choice, but I can't help but think of all the ways to find him." Tom shrugged a little.

"Let him be. He will come back when he is ready." Taylor brushed his cheek.

"What if he never comes back?" Tom slumped even more. "I still feel him, sometimes it feels like I even hear him."

"You two have a very special bond. You'll find each other again - I truly believe that!" She gently hugged Tom. "Please come inside, it's getting cold."

"I have to find him!" He finally knew what he had made Bill feel and it tore him apart every single day. Now, he was the one sitting and waiting... for the lost brother.

Bill's POV, Russia

Bill stood in the flower shop, holding two bouquets of delicate forget-me-nots. The tiny blue flowers were rare to find in autumn, but the florist had managed to get them just for him. She knew how much these flowers meant to him - he had been visiting the shop all summer, and every time asked for these precise flowers.

"They're beautiful," the elderly florist said softly, carefully wrapping the flowers in paper. "It's not easy to find these this time of year. Those flowers must meant a lot to her."

"Yes, that's true," Bill replied, his voice tight with emotions. He took the flowers and left the shop. He had promised Mila never to pick the flowers, as they tend to die fast after being taken out of their natural habitat. However, after all that happened, there was no use in keeping that promise. He would search for them and pick them up for the rest of his life.

The air was already colder, the autumn-fresh breeze tossed his hair and the flowers clutched tightly in his arms. It made him feel nostalgic. He met her first time in late autumn, and the memories felt like yesterday.

He squeezed the flowers in his hands, trying to keep himself from breaking down. He lit a cigarette, but it did little to calm his nerves, tears filled his eyes once again.

"Come on! Get yourself together!" he muttered to himself, brushing away his tears. He inhaled deeply. "Be strong. You can do this!"

He took the now very familiar road to the place he visited often. Bill walked slowly toward the headstones that stood in a quiet row. The forget-me-nots in his hand were as fragile as the memories they represented.

How many times had he cried there? How many emotions had he felt in that place? But this particular emotion was completely new to him - a strange mix of fear and cowardice. He knelt at the grave of his child. The tiny grave marker seemed out of place, and Bill's hand trembled as he placed the bouquet at its base.

"I'm sorry," he whispered sadly. "I wish things had been different."

The flowers he had planted in the spring had long since withered. The new bouquet would last about a week. Then he would come back again to continue the ritual until the winter snow covered their graves like a blanket.

After a while, he was afraid to move, yet he wanted to stand up and go more than ever before. Caught between conflicting feelings, he decided to wait a little longer. He replayed all the happy moments in his mind - the smiles, the laughter, and the love he and Mila had shared. A small, faint smile appeared on his face.

Despite all the horrors they had endured, those little moments of pure happiness with her were vivid in his memory. The way she sat on the counter in her flower dress, stirring pancake batter. Her shy smile whenever he told her, "I love you." The way she danced around when she thought no one was watching. Her ability to remember the small things, her unbreakable trust, and her fiery determination when she was behind the wheel - all were burned into his memory. Her completely unhinged jealousy was, too, something he found so beautiful.

He looked at the graves once more. "I promise, I will do it right!" he vowed.

"Sergei, I am trying so hard to make it all right, I swear to you!" He looked back at Sergei, who stood a few steps behind him. This had become some sort of ritual for them - meeting at a place where no one could find them. Both shared the same destiny - life in hiding. Sergei looked at Bill like a father looks at his son. "You can do this, Bill! If anyone, it's you! I trust you. Please take care, and let me know if you ever need anything from me, okay?"

"Yes, I will. Thank you, Sergei for everything!"

He walked toward the purple Bugatti Veyron: a ghost car no one had ever been able to catch. Now he was the driver - the Phantom Rider - hiding from his past shadows. Speeding through life unknown.

He rushed back home, the drive long and fraught with emotion. Overwhelmed and on the verge of tears, he managed to keep himself together. "Not today!" he muttered, nodding to himself.

He took a deep breath, waves of stress crashing over him. He looked in the car mirror, rolled up his white linen shirt sleeves, and went inside. The door was unlocked. It was still strange to him that doors could be left open without fear of everything being taken away.