Chapter 6 The Roar of the Night

The darkness was total, thick and suffocating. My hands scrambled against the cold plexiglass barrier as the echo of scraping skates faded into the cavernous depths of the arena.

"Jaxson!" I yelled, my voice bouncing off the high, invisible rafters.

"Avery, don't move!" his voice barked through the blackness, closer than I expected.

A heavy boot stepped off the ice, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps tracking toward me. A second later, a massive, solid frame slammed into mine, locking me against the outer wall of the rink. Jaxson’s hands found my waist, his breathing heavy and ragged in the dark. He smelled like pure adrenaline, ice, and the metallic tang of Miller’s blood.

"Did he get to you?" Jaxson rasped, his face so close his breath brushed my cheek.

"No, but Miller's gone," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs. "He fled toward the locker rooms."

"He’s the least of our problems right now. The lights didn't fail, Avery. Someone killed the main breaker from the security hub." Jaxson grabbed my hand, his iron grip pulling me forward. "We need to get to the Jeep before they block the loading dock."

We moved blindly through the dark corridor, our feet echoing like gunshots on the concrete. My eyes slowly adjusted to the faint, grey moonlight filtering through the high clerestory windows. The silence in the arena was eerie, broken only by the howling storm outside.

We burst through the heavy exit doors and into the pouring rain. The vintage Jeep stood exactly where we left it, its dark silhouette glistening under the torrential downpour.

"Get in," Jaxson ordered, throwing open the passenger door.

I climbed inside, shivering violently as the wet fabric of his heavy black hoodie clung to my skin. Jaxson vaulted over the driver's side, jammed the key into the ignition, and twisted it. The engine sputtered, let out a pathetic groan, and died.

"Damn it," Jaxson growled, slamming his fist against the steering wheel. He tried again. The starter clicked rapidly, but the engine refused to catch.

I looked out the side window, my blood turning to ice. A pair of blinding high-beams flickered to life at the far end of the gravel driveway. A heavy, black SUV began rolling slowly toward us, completely blocking our only exit path through the woods.

"Jaxson... we have company," I said, my hand instinctively diving into my pocket to ensure the encrypted flash drive was still secure.

Jaxson looked at the approaching headlights, his jaw tightening into a ruthless line. "They cut the starter wire. They knew we’d run for the Jeep."

"What do we do? We're cornered."

"No, we're not." Jaxson reached into the back seat, pulling out his spare helmet and tossing it into my lap. He grabbed his own, his gray eyes locking onto mine with an unyielding, fierce intensity. "We take the Ninja. They can block a road, but they can't block the mountain trails on four wheels."

We scrambled out of the Jeep just as the black SUV accelerated, tires kicking up gravel. Jaxson led the way to the shadows of the athletic building where his midnight-black Kawasaki Ninja was parked. 

He threw his leg over the seat and fired it up. The engine roared to life, a menacing, aggressive growl that sliced through the sound of the storm.

I scrambled onto the back, pulling the helmet over my head and wrapping my arms around his waist. I pressed myself flush against his back, holding on for dear life as he ripped the throttle.

The bike launched forward, spraying water behind us.

Instead of heading down the main driveway toward the waiting SUV, Jaxson swerved hard to the right, driving straight onto the narrow, mud-slicked dirt trail that led up into the Blackwood mountains. 

The bike fishtailed wildly on the wet leaves, but Jaxson stabilized it with pure athletic dominance, leaning into the darkness.

Behind us, the roar of a heavy V8 engine echoed. The black SUV had veered off the road, its headlights sweeping wildly through the trees as it pursued us into the rough terrain.

"Hold on!" Jaxson yelled through the helmet intercom.

The trail narrowed, branches slapping against my helmet and shoulders as we soared higher up the mountain. The rain was blinding, the lightning illuminating sharp drop-offs just inches from our tires. 

The SUV was relentless, ramming through small brush, trying to close the distance to clip our rear wheel.

Up ahead, the trail split—one path leading down toward the town, the other heading straight toward the treacherous, abandoned cliffside highway known as the Dead Man's Overlook.

Jaxson didn't slow down. He accelerated straight toward the cliffs.