The Runner ➳ Narry (Book One)

Chapter Two

Once back outside in the cool, moist night air of London, the pain got worse. I felt my heart pummelling against my chest as I slowly started to make my way back out into the small street, still holding my side.

I walked back past the other old doors out onto the main street of London, walking in the shadows so no one would suspect anything of me.

I looked behind me and spotted an Addison Lee taxi van speeding down the road. I held out my non-bloody hand, signalling the driver to stop. I quickly wiped my bloody hand on my t-shirt and zipped up my jacket so the driver wouldn't see.

The black van with the bright white logo pulled up beside me, the driver staring at me as I got in the passenger seat. He looked quite young, maybe about 20 years old. His blonde hair was styled nicely brunette roots showing near his scalp suggesting that he must bleach it. He looked at me with bright, warming, confident blue eyes, but his face held a hint of coldness.

I glared back at him for a moment before turning my eyes to the deserted road in front of us. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the pain. Opening them again, I looked at the driver.

"Take me to the old warehouse on Smith."

"A please, maybe?" The driver raised an eyebrow lightheartedly. He pulled away from the curb and continued on. I could feel his eyes on the side of my head."You're lucky I stopped for you in the first place."

I scoffed. "Lucky," I said flatly.

"You seemed kind of sketchy on the side of the road this late at night," he laughed a little as he shrugged. "But I'm drawn to sketchy, I guess."

"I'm not sketchy, I just need to be somewhere," I said with annoyance in my voice. Why is he making so much conversation? My side was on fire, my face warm from the pain.

"What are you going to the warehouse for?" He had a heavy Irish accent.

"It's none of your business," I let my head fall back onto the head rest.

After a minute of silence, he spoke up. "I'm Niall."

He shifted the taxi into gear and pulled back onto the road.

"I don't really care what a taxi driver's name is," I said coldly.

Niall chuckled, his mouth revealing a set of perfectly straight teeth. "I'm not a taxi driver."

"Okay, Sherlock. You're the one behind the wheel."

"I stole this taxi," he said just above a whisper. Fuck, how did I always get myself into these situations?

I narrowed my brow. "How did you-"

He cut me off. "What's your name?"

I still couldn't process that this church-looking boy had stolen a taxi, and frankly, he was kind of annoying.

"That's none of your business either."

He glanced at me, opening his mouth then quickly shutting it.

"Look, you don't need to know shit about me," I said coldly, my scowl returning. "So shut the fuck up and just drive me to the damn warehouse."

He looked at me before slamming down on the breaks and pulling onto the curb again, making the seatbelt pierce my neck as I jerked forward in my seat. I grunted as the belt pressed at the wound beneath my jacket.

He stayed silent, his hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.

"This isn't the warehouse, dumbass," I stated. We were miles from the warehouse yet, what the hell is he doing?

"Get out," he looked at me with a dark expression.

I scoffed, staying still in my seat, locking eyes with the blonde boy.

"I said, get out."

"No."

He swallowed and turned his glare back to the road.

"Drive me to the warehouse," I snapped again.

"You have legs for a reason."

"It's freezing outside!"

"Get out of the fucking van!" His sudden loudness took me by surprise.

I silently growled and rolled my eyes as I ripped my seat belt out of the buckle with a clang. I reached a hand up to push back my hair as I jerked the door of the taxi open.

So much for a ride.