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To my immense relief, when I look up ahead a minute later, I see more than just a blur of trees and darkness.
I see the glow of streetlights splashed across pavement.
I could cry, I’m so relieved.
I can finally stop running. I keep walking fast, my heart pounding as I try to catch my breath.
Tomorrow, I beef up my cardio routine. It’s decided.
As long as I make it to tomorrow.
A potent cocktail of fear and relief—and fear to feel relieved—swirl around me in a dizzying funnel cloud that sweeps me off my feet as soon as I can breathe again. We’re walking now—at a brisk pace, sure, but he’s not even looking over his shoulder.
Almost like he’s not worried about them catching up to us.
A wave of distrust swells up, and it occurs to me… I don’t need him anymore.
If he really is my savior and not a part of this trap, then he has done his job. He got me out of the basement in one piece. I’ll send him a card or something, but I don’t need to stay with him now. I don’t need to risk trusting him.
I can keep running on my own.
I don’t know where to go, but I look around, trying to get a grasp on my location. I go to reach for my phone, then realize my purse is back in that damn basement.
Shit.
My gaze darts to the masked man. He’s looking up the road like he’s waiting for someone to come meet us. His back is to me.
This is my chance.
My mind is made up at the same moment he turns, and although I feel a sharp spike of fear at having given up my head start, the course has already been set.
I turn away from him and start running like my life depends on it.
Because maybe it does.
Chapter Five
Killian
Shane isn’t fucking here yet.
I knew he might not be. He hasn’t had long enough to get here from Silvan’s family mansion, but if there’s a night to disobey traffic laws, this is it.
My car is parked at an abandoned building several blocks in the opposite direction. We could start heading that way and I could just text Shane our updated location when he gets closer, but I don’t want to walk down the road with the girl out in plain sight, either.
If I were one of those guys and the girl I just tried to rape and murder took off into the woods, I wouldn’t run for a minute and then say, “Well, damn, I guess she got away.”
I wouldn’t stop until I’d finished it, and while I realize none of the knuckleheads in the piggyback society are made of the same stuff we’re made of, they are spoiled little bitches who aren’t used to getting in trouble for the bad shit they’ve done. They have wealthy families and enough connections that they can usually get out of whatever shit they’ve stepped in. Nearly all the trust fund babies that go here do.
They will expect to get away with this.
If at least one of them has enough sense to solve his own problems without daddy’s help, they’re going to come after her.
Walking down the road where they can see us if someone is driving around looking for us is just fucking stupid. Especially when they have a gun. We’d be sitting ducks, and I’m not trying to die tonight.
I turn back to the girl to tell her we need to keep moving but stay out of sight, but when I do, I see a wild glint in her eyes.
Fear, mistrust, confusion.
