Page 48 of Midnight Curfew

“You better be,” he grits out.

Yeah, yeah…

“Dallas!” Iron tries to stop me, but my mind is made up.

Punching the gas, I race away, turning left onto the main street and honking my horn.

Of course they’ll catch Trace’s car on cameras, speeding past midnight, but I’ll dump it somewhere and say it was stolen.

The windshield wipers swipe back and forth, and I roll down the window to try to hear anything.

I hang up the phone, coasting past the art gallery and the Tradewinds spa, water sloshing under the tires.

Kicking it up into fourth gear, I see the black-and-white after it’s too late. My heart jumps in my chest, given the darkened cop car was hiding between two buildings. I pass and see the lights spinning brightly a moment later.

Fuck. I’ve actually never run from the police before. Claiming you didn’t know about a curfew when you really didn’t is feasible. Actively evading the cops is a serious fucking crime.

Turning up the music, I go for it, accelerating to fifth gear. Rain glints in the headlights, and another set of police lights appears in my rearview mirror.

Where is that asshole? Callum Ames really doesn’t know when he’s lost, does he?

How long has he been planning this?

I’ve got three cop cars now, minus my brother, in pursuit before I know it, and my brothers should be on their way home.

There’s no way Callum Ames is sleeping through this. I’d bet he has a cop on speed dial, getting minute-by-minute updates.

I turn to head back up to the hills, ditch the car, and strangle him in his fucking foyer, but I spot his vehicle.

Through the trees, beyond the gate to Marymount.

What the fuck is he doing at school?

I draw in a breath. The Ministry.

Are they meeting to watch all this go down?

I charge ahead, away from the campus, hitting top speed before downshifting and making a right, then another right. I roll over the empty sidewalk, into a bed of trees between two houses. Covered under the shield of darkness, I kill the engine and jump out of the car.

Slinking behind a tree-line fence, I spot the lights flashing as the cop cars speed down the street, not noticing Trace’s car buried in the brush.

Twisting my head left to right, I jog out of the neighborhood and back to the school. Entering the parking lot, I look around, seeing only Callum’s car, though. Overhead lights reflect on the wet pavement, and my T-shirt sticks to my torso as I gaze up at the windows.

My classroom light is on.

Digging out my keys, I run, kicking up water as I cross the parking lot. Halting at a side door, I unlock it, then dive inside and close it, jogging down the hallway, along the courtyard. I move my head slowly from left to right, noticing how every classroom door is closed and every room remains dark. Taking it slow, to gauge the threat, I walk down the corridor and up the stairs to my classroom. When I approach, I see that the light is on, but as the room comes into view, I see that it’s empty. Stepping inside, I take note of my desk, my laptop, and every book, prop, and cabinet seemingly undisturbed. I’m about to back out again, leaving the light on the way I found it, but I notice the Seneca and Nero statue is gone.

I look up and down the windowsill. One of the students could’ve moved it.

But it’s not there. Heading over to the windows, I move books and swipe reams of paper to the floor, but it’s missing.

I look behind the bust of a gladiator a student made in ceramics last year, a light catching my attention.

The gymnasium below glows bright, the clear, retractable roof completely open. Rain pours in, spilling into the pool.

My heart feels like it jumps two fucking inches. Backing away from the window, I slowly turn and head out of the room, descend the stairs, and walk to him.

I wish I could say I would’ve done things differently five years ago.