Lupo

Chapter Twenty One (Part 2): Hatred darkens

Happy Saturday! Seem to have had a burst of mania, so finally managed to finish this chapter.

(C) Copyright SJCLewis2021

The car was almost totally silent as Bash drove them away from Heavitree Road. 

The lime trees along Morrell Avenue cast ghostly shadows in the yellow street lights, and South Park seemed impossibly black beyond its railings. As they drew level with Union Street, Darcie peered down it towards Tescos and the Cowley Road beyond - all was quiet. The digital clock on the dashboard read half-past one in the morning; The world seemed deserted.

She daren't look back at Tito - sprawled as he was across the back seat. She'd glimpsed the blood when she'd first slid, shivering, into the front passenger seat - a saturated bath towel pressed against his ruined stomach and a makeshift tourniquet above the wound in his leg. The woman who'd saved Darcie cradled his head against her chest, and his face had been stark white against the leather of her combat gear, beneath all the gore. Almost lifeless.

His breathing seemed impossibly loud in the other-wise hushed space. As they sped through the Headington roundabout and drew to an abrupt stop before a set of traffic lights, Darcie was unable to stop herself from focusing in on the sound: strained, agonised and exhausted. Her own breathing seemed to rise to meet his in a rhythm that made her throat constrict and her lungs burn, and suddenly there wasn't enough air for the two of them - for the four of them. The car was too small; Her head swam.

Panic attack?

From the backseat, the woman swore violently. "Hey, hey, hey! Dickhead, keep with me." she hissed, as Tito let out a great shuddering sigh. "Open your eyes. Look at me!"

Tito sighed again, and then muttered something in Spanish Darcie didn't understand. Bash glanced up at his cousin through the rear-view mirror, and then sliced his gaze towards Darcie, who turned away towards the window to hide her face. She was immediately met with her own, miserable expression reflected in the glass, and the sight of her traitorous body trembling with the effort of suppressing her inner turmoil.

"Hey Darcie," Bash murmured, his voice incredibly calm and even above Tito's ragged breathing behind them. "Keep a lookout for me?"

Shaking, Darcie peered at his profile reflected in the window in front of her. She struggled to control her breathing enough to force out: "What?"

Beyond the traffic lights, they turned onto the slip road towards Woodstock and the car began to accelerate. "For police," he said calmly, merging onto the silent carriageway. "That would be a big help."

She frowned but had little time to question him. With the road dark and deserted before them, Bash squeezed the accelerator and Darcie's eyes blew wide with shock as she was forced back in her seat by the sudden change of speed. Still, heart in her mouth, she gripped the edges of her chair and squinted out into the night at each car they passed - panic attack momentarily starved as she vainly attempted to identify one car from another. They passed a few cars coming in the other direction and overtook still more, but they were moving so fast that all she could make out were blurs of headlights before they had left them all behind.

It must have been only a matter of minutes before they reached their destination - The London Oxford Airport - a drive that should have taken at least 20. Bash slowed the car again, though they were still slightly too-fast as they swung off the carriageway and towards the gates.  Heart thumping in her chest and teeth clenched, Darcie gripped her seat harder as they raced towards the entrance, the gates swinging open as they approached.