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Think, Nick. God, what the hell use was his GPA if he couldn’t think of a way out of here?
“Come out now,” said the man. “Three seconds and she dies.” He didn’t hesitate. “Three . . . Two . . .”
“Nick!” Quinn’s voice, high and panicked.
“Okay!” Nick shoved Adam down and stood, revealing himself. He didn’t recognize this guy at all.
But he recognized the danger of a gun pointed at Quinn’s head.
Nick put his hands up to show he was unarmed. “Okay. I’m here. Let her go.”
Adam. Stay hidden. Please, Adam.
“That was easy,” said the Guide.
Then he pointed the gun straight at Nick’s head and pulled the trigger.
CHAPTER 30
The gun fired, and Quinn flew back and hit the wooden floor like someone had given her a hard shove. The studio windows exploded outward, but the sound only came to her distantly, as though she were underwater. The overhead lights burst and glass rained down.
Time stopped. She felt as if she lay there for a minute. An hour. A day.
After a while, she realized she could open her eyes. She turned her head.
Glass everywhere, sparkling in the light.
She couldn’t see Nick.
She couldn’t breathe.
Her ears were ringing and full, and she couldn’t seem to move right yet.
Where was the man?
He’d shot Nick. She’d seen the flash, had seen Nick jerk and fall.
She had to run.
She had to get to her phone.
Her brain was racing, but everything else seemed to be moving in slow motion.
Move!
She still couldn’t breathe. The pressure was intense, as if an elephant had set up shop right on top of her chest. Her vision was turning spotty.
Had she been shot? She felt like she’d been dropped into liq-uid amber, and her world was slowly coming to a crystalline stop.
What was happening?
And then, without warning, reality snapped back into place.
Wind rushed into the studio, chilling her face and making the glass tinkle and drag across the wood.
She could move. She could breathe. She could crawl.
But no. When she rolled over, trying to get to her hands and knees, her body shook and protested the motion. Every joint hurt. Her head swam. Her skin pricked like she’d been sliced open by a hundred tiny knives.
