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)
“Lock her inside,” someone else says.
I squirm. No!
They slam the door shut, and I kick it with my skates again and again before I stop and try to rub my face against the seat. I need to get this blindfold off.
“And throw away the key,” I hear someone say.
Laughter fades away, and I sit up, rubbing my head against the seat back. The whole time, though, I’m waiting for it. I breathe hard, sure that it’s coming. The emergency brake to be released and the car to be pushed. That freefall feeling as I plummet into the river.
The blindfold slips free, and I shake my head, throwing it off. I blink, twisting my head back and forth, taking in my surroundings.
It takes a few seconds to blink away the blur, but I see trees. A forest.
I exhale. I’m not at the river.
And they’re gone. I jerk my head around, checking for people.
No one is here, at least that I can see yet, and I’m the only one in the car.
It’s an old one, too, sitting in a sea of old cars, all jam-packed together in the middle of the woods. What the hell is this? Trees sit on both sides, although I can spot the road to my right that we must’ve come in on.
Why are all of these vehicles abandoned here?
One of my windows is cracked, a light rain flying in, and I look over the front seat, taking in the four-door Pontiac Grand Prix. The dark red interior is all leather, and I spot the CD player and dated knobs and shifter. Gross carpet covers the floors, and the lining on the roof is peeling. This thing is from the ’90s. I look around, not seeing a single car from this century. The moon peeks through the clouds, and there must be fifty more cars stretched out in front of me and fifty more behind me.
Where the hell am I?
Fog crawls in from each side, and I spot movement far ahead. At least, I think I do. I quickly dart back down, hiding.
“Dylan!” a guy sings. “Are you here?”
Dirk? Kade’s friend.
Inching up, I peek over the seat, seeing three figures moving through the fog. They carry flashlights, peering in cars and pounding on roofs.
“Come out, come out!” he chants. “We’ve missed you.”
I duck back down. His tone isn’t inviting.
They know I’m here, but they don’t know where. Which means it was the Rebels who delivered me. They left me here for the Pirates.
Was Farrow in on this?
I need to get out of here, but I won’t make it far in skates.
I dig my phone out of my back pocket, contorting my shoulders as much as possible and looking behind me as best I can to see the screen. Pressing Power, I hit the Phone icon, about to dial Hunter.
Would he even care, though? He’d come for me, if he’s not in on it, too, but I hold back.
Hawke is too far away, and I’d rather not call my parents.
Kade would kill for a chance to rescue me from Weston, though.
I call him, but the phone barely rings once before I hear a tolling pierce the air outside.
I go still.
The other end of my call rings, quickly followed by one mimicking it outside again. I stop breathing.
He’s here. That’s his phone out there.
“Shit.” I end the call.
Fuck.
I don’t think he’d hurt me, but he’s not here to help.
“Did you think it was smart to gamble on their loyalty?” someone shouts, and it sounds like Stoli. “That’s the thing about this ghost town, Dylan. They’re loyal to nothing but getting paid.”
Tears pool in my eyes, and if I weren’t so scared, I might let them fall. I thought the girls and I had fun today, but no one really fucking likes me, do they? I’ll walk into Weston High School tomorrow as alone as when I came, and no one misses me in the Falls. Except maybe Aro.
“We don’t want you back,” Dirk calls out. “But we are owed payback.”
I shiver, my shirt still hanging down my arms, bunched up at the bindings around my wrists.
The door on my left clicks, and I lift my head, looking over.
It opens gently, and a form appears, crouched down as he turns his baseball cap backward and starts to climb in.
I blink in the darkness, through my tears. “Kade?”
He stops as I turn onto my back to try to see better.
“Is that you?” I ask.
He crawls to me, softly shutting the door behind him.
He comes down on top of me, planting a hand over my mouth.
Hunter
“Yeah,” I reply. “It’s me.”
I don’t know what I’m doing, but the words just come out.
That’s who she thinks of. The first person she saw when I opened the door. Kade.
To be fair, we’re built the same now, and I rarely wear a cap. He wears one often.