The inverted stalking

The sound of the engine was faint but unmistakable.

A bike. The Dodge 8300. My favorite.

I stormed into the garage, Matteo and Lorenzo right behind me.

“Merda… MERDA!”

My eyes scanned the wall. Empty. She’d taken all the keys. Not just hers. All of them. So we couldn’t follow.

My fist slammed aga...

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