Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Hunter steps back into the shop, his eyes slowly drifting around for me.
I stand there, watching them look right over me, only a thin piece of glass between us.
Quinn almost had the mirror removed when she bought the place. What a weird thing to have in a bakery anyway. Especially a mirror rising from nearly floor to ceiling—same size as a door.
But Hawke, after realizing what was here, stopped her before she looked too closely. And before a contractor could try to pry it off.
Then, when she wanted the old wallpaper peeled away, Hawke volunteered himself for the job. He repaired the drywall, primed, and painted. She never concerned herself with it again.
He’ll tell her, of course, but Quinn is a rule-follower. He wants me to be eighteen, and a legal adult, before I get up to whatever trouble she thinks I might get up to in here. Otherwise, she might tell our parents about our hideout.
I’m not sure when Hawke planned on telling Hunter, but as Hunter’s eyes stop on the mirror and he steps closer and closer to me, looking like he’s barely breathing, I’m a little worried Hawke might not need to.
I might not be able to watch Kade show up, after all.
Behind him, his friends look behind the counter and under the tables as Calvin twists the deadbolt and peers outside. Hunter remains still, his frame filling the mirror.
I watch his eyes glide around the perimeter. Placing his fingertips against the glass, he presses, but it doesn’t give way.
He knows, though. It’s only a matter of time before—
Just then, my phone rings in my hand, and I suck in a breath as Hunter’s eyes widen. Kade’s name appears on my screen just as Hunter’s gaze sharpens, knowing I’m here. I don’t know if the others have caught on yet, but I don’t wait to find out.
I rush through Carnival Tower, down the steps, into the great room with a kitchen and common area, and climb the spiral staircase to the roof. Lifting the hatch, I slip through and let it slam shut.
God, I’m in so much trouble. Hawke’s going to kill me if the Rebels suspect there’s a hideout there.
Racing across the roof, I leap down the fire escape and jump to the ground, scurrying back into the alleyway again. Heart punching through my chest, I climb back on my bike and start the engine.
“She’s outside!” I hear someone shout from inside the bakery.
I ride away, fast down High Street, back toward Weston. A group of guys outside Rivertown look up at me, and I check my rearview mirror, seeing them scurry into their brand-new Mazda 3, but there are already two other pairs of headlights on me.
One of them is probably Hunter.
Go, I growl inwardly. I accelerate, whipping down the highway and then left onto Frontage Road, heading for the bridge. Should I be going to Weston? They just framed me for vandalism.
But I don’t think I can stay in the Falls, either. Which—it just occurs to me—was probably their whole plan. I don’t want to go home yet.
I cut right, kicking into a high gear and flying across the bridge. Horns honk behind me, and I feel them on my ass. I can hear their engines gaining closer and closer, and I hit a pothole, skidding off the bridge. I gasp, putting my foot out and dragging it on the ground to keep the bike upright.
My phone vibrates with notifications, and I know I hear two cars slam into each other behind me. I race off, the rumble of a truck right on my tail, and I whimper, but at the same time, I want to laugh. My stomach somersaults a thousand times a minute, and if I live through this, it’ll be the most fun I ever had.
If I don’t, it’ll be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
A horn belts out a piercing screech, and shouts fill the air as people lean out their windows. “You can’t hide!”
A car races up to my side and closes in. I scream, swerve, and plummet into another pothole, my phone slipping out of my pocket and falling onto the river bank as I bounce over the shoulder of the road. I fly into the air as water gleams below and suck in a breath as I crash into the river.
I sink beneath the surface, squeezing my eyes shut, and shoving off my helmet. My bike plummets, and I kick and push with my arms, but something tugs at my jacket, stopping me. I look down and start screaming, my imagination going wild, and I’m sure that it’s Winslet’s ghost. I grab where my clothing is caught, but it’s just the handlebar. I get dragged down with my bike, struggling to free myself, and then something else crashes through the water, and I see Hunter.