Andre grabbed my elbow tightly and stopped in the middle of the road. There was no one around. It was a rarely traveled route, and there wasn’t a soul for miles.
It could have been anyone.
But I was no longer willing to believe in coincidences.
The soft purr of a motorcycle engine reached us. It grew quickly in intensity until the headlights flooded the bend in the road. With a thunderous roar, the vehicle skidded briefly across the pavement before stopping.
The beam from the front light spilled over the forest, and in that powerful glow it was easy to see that it was a high-powered machine—a motorcycle built for rough terrain.
The driver wasn’t wearing a helmet.
He needed to show his small, pointed, attentive ears and the bright, thick, short muzzle.
I went pale.
Andre gripped my
