The Reaper's Ruin

CHAPTER TWO

Don't mind the baby picture. I enjoy showing off this beautiful boy way too much lol

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All the cars were lined at the start point, revving their engines and basically trying too hard to show off. Ryker wasn't a man who bragged by practice, but it was hard not to feel a bit superior in the car department.

Before coming to this meet, he'd never thought of it as a bragging point, though. He was not a materialistic person by nature. If anything, he was a humble bastard with a sour attitude—which was exactly what his peers had said of him.

But then, most of them were. When you could have anything you wanted with a snap of your fingers, it was hard to be materialistic. In this moment, though, he was glad he had the nice shit.

The girl—who he realized was actually a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties—was silent beside him, her hands folded neatly in her lap, hair pushed behind her ears, and her eyes trained forward. He cast her another glance as the countdown began.

There was no anticipation, no fear. Normally, he could smell their emotions like a Scentsy burning in a room. They were poignant and unavoidable—and yet he smelled nothing from her. Not even depression. It was like she was a radar with nothing on the map to detect.

He frowned, then switched knocked the shift knob from automatic to manual. He might be an old fart who dreaded assimilating into the current society, but he did know how to drive. When it was time, he took off. The McLaren rumbled beneath their asses, and after a quick glance at the woman, he found she was still just sitting there. No expression, no emotion.

What the actual hell was wrong with her?

"What's your problem?" he asked, starting to get pissed. Why wasn't she like other people? Most people would be scared, or at least thrilled. She was neither! He shifted up another gear, following the course. They were breaching eighty miles an hour at this point, with all the other cars eating his dust.

Figured.

"Hey," he snapped when she didn't answer. "What's your problem?"

"Huh?" she asked, blinking at him. There it was—confusion. He could smell that, at least. Still not what he wanted, though. He wanted some sort of reaction. What was her point in doing this if she didn't even care? "What do you mean?"

"Why do you have a death wish?"

"Excuse me?" Her brows lowered over her eyes.

Ryker wanted whack her upside the head. Maybe then she would register something more real. Maybe, maybe not. At this point, he doubted it.

"You're just sitting there. What's up with that? What's wrong with you? And why are you even here?" He spared her another glance before paying attention to the road again. They were at one hundred and fifty now. A blue car was struggling to catch up in the distance.

"I always come here," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. She was starting to become defensive.

"Do you want to die? Is that what you want?"

"Do you want to die?" she countered, waving a hand at the road. "If you didn't notice, you're in just as much danger as I am. What the hell does it even matter to you?"

She was clearly starting to get angry, yet he couldn't sense it. He could only see it. It was like he was a human again, with only six senses to rely on instead of eight. His eyes nearly crossed.