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Shit. Shit. Shit!
“Ray?” Mick spins when she notices I’m not right behind her. “What’s up?”
“We have to go,” I manage to rasp.
“What?” She looks over her shoulder, obviously hunting for what I’m gaping at.
“Don’t turn, don’t turn, don’t turn.” The words rattle out of me, and Mikayla thinks I must be talking about her, but I’m not.
I’m quietly begging Matt not to swivel this way.
What the hell is he even doing here?
We’re hours away from Fontana.
Why is he here? Does he have family up here? I should have known that. I should have researched every aspect of his life before I stepped into that private jet.
How could I be so careless?
How could this be happening? Of all the freaking malls in California, he had to be in this one? It’s like the universe is laughing at me, pointing its finger at my face and mocking me. “You stupid girl. This will never be over for you.”
Oh fuck, he’s turning.
“We have to go,” I squeak, grabbing Mikayla’s wrist, but not fast enough.
He spins, his face blank until his gaze hits mine.
Watching his eyes light with recognition is terrifying.
My breath hitches and I spin, yanking Mikayla through the mall.
“What is happening right now?” She picks up her pace when I break into a sprint. “Rachel!”
She’s yelling at me, but I can’t respond. We have to get out of here. We have to?—
I steal a glance over my shoulder and a half gasp, half sob punches out of me.
“He’s following us.” My voice pitches, my arms flailing as I bolt down the stairs.
“What are we running from?”
“Him.” I point over my shoulder but don’t stop.
“Who is that?”
Spotting an exit sign, I surge toward it, slapping down the bar and bolting into a parking garage. We run past the rows of cars until I hear the door smashing open behind us.
“Get down.” I pull my best friend between two cars and force her down beside me, trying to catch my breath.
“Rachel.” She pinches my chin, making me look at her. “Who is that?”
“His name’s Matt.” My expression buckles. “And he’s Theo’s best friend.”
Her lips part the way I knew they would, her expression murderous. “Is he the one who?—”
I dip my chin, unwilling to look at her. I’m squeezing the life out of her hand, but thankfully she puts up with it, curling her fingers around mine as we crouch behind a blue SUV.
Probably dragging us into an isolated parking garage was a really dumb idea. I should have stayed in the mall where people were milling around. He wouldn’t attack us in public, would he?
