The Predator

The car swerved, tires screeching against the wet asphalt. I barely blinked. Barely registered the fact that I’d almost sent myself through the windshield. My hands gripped the steering wheel too tight, my knuckles stark white against the black leather.

The city lights blurred, streaks of red and white cutting through the darkness as I sped through the empty streets. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t feeling. I was moving, breathing, existing in the only way I knew how—reckless, dangerous, unhinged.

A sharp turn. A near miss. A horn blared somewhere behind me, but I didn’t fucking care. I wasn’t slowing down.

Because if I did—if I stopped for...