Page 65 of Lucky 14

Holland flips out behind me, trying to yank her arm out of my grip. I hold tight, thinking about drawing my knife with my left hand. Will I be able to do it? My gut twists.

The man, numbered Twenty-Seven, looks down at my belt, then back up at me. He grins under his mask, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Lucky number Fourteen. Getting favors from the very beginning.”

I notice the sounds of shouting far away, but I have to re-adjust my grip on Holland. She’s straining for her backpack that’s lying on the ground just a few feet away.

“I don’t want any trouble.” Holland is moving behind me, but I can’t rip my eyes away from the man, not for a second.

The man says nothing, just keeps looking at me with that gaze. Eyes that look blank again while he stands unnaturally still.

There’s another shout, closer now. The man’s gaze shifts for just a fraction to where the sound came from.

“We’ll just be going.” I take a slow step to the side, making sure Holland stays with me. I don’t realize how dark it’s gotten, but the woods are shadowy and gray.

Twenty-Seven just smiles again.

I keep moving both of us away from him. Back toward where I came from. The shouts come again, followed by a scream that makes the hair stand up on my arms.

Twenty-Seven turns to look toward the sound. I pull Holland faster, feeling her trip behind me.

“My bag,” she hisses.

“No time.” My heart is racing, pulling her as far away from that man as I can. Instinct is screaming at me to get away from him, but not to run. If I run, I know he’ll chase. When I turn, Twenty-Seven is watching us again. His head cocks slightly.

Holland is really fighting me now, but I’m not sure if it’s to get away from Twenty-Seven or me.

We’re passing trees and bushes that will hide us from the other hunter. As soon as I can’t see him anymore, I start running. Holland runs with me. I can’t shake the feeling that I have to keep her hidden from that man.

We run for what feels like forever and no time at all. The dark trees blur past, and all I can think is get away, get away. Finally, Holland stumbles behind me, yanking my arm in my socket. I stop, and she’s off her feet, looking small and broken, lying on the ground. Immediately, guilt punches me in the gut, and I reach down to help her up.

Holland sucks in heavy breaths, looking up at me with hatred in her eyes.

“Holland, I’m sorry⁠—”

“My name,” she rasps, putting an arm up to fend me off, “is fucking Holli.”

I stand there, staring at her. As I do, she looks up at me, and her voice gets louder. Meaner. “My name is fucking Holli!”

She stands, but stumbles. Immediately, I reach out to catch her, and as soon as I grip her arm, I realize her skin is on fire.

“Get the fuck off me,” she shouts. Her gaze is unfocused, and she can barely stand.

“We have to keep going.” But Holland—Holli’s—breathing is shallow, and there’s sweat around her hairline. She mutters something that sounds like ‘cold.’

“What?”

“Coat!” Holli stumbles again, and this time I have to hold her up. I look at her closer, and as I do, I see raindrops start to splash on her forehead and cheeks. She doesn’t even blink.

Glancing up through the trees, I realize the sky is dark and stormy. It’s starting to rain harder now, the drops of water cooling on my sweaty scalp. For a second, I suck in a breath, my heart racing in my ears, trying to cool down.

“Need my coat.”

I glance down, and Holli is starting to stumble back the way we came. She’s holding her arms to herself like she’s freezing.

“Holli—”

“You left my fucking coat!” She’s screaming now. Instinctively, I wince, looking around.