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“Oh, we can do better than that,” said Jay.
Michael tried to catch his breath, but his lungs burned with each inhale. “Why?” he gasped. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I need you.” He pulled the trigger again.
Pain exploded in Michael’s left leg. Upper thigh this time. The earth shook harder. Michael wished for clarity, for something useful. He wished for the singular focus he’d found while fighting the Guide in the woods behind his house.
He couldn’t think through the pain.
“Why?” he said again. “Why do you need me?”
“Easy,” said Hunter’s uncle. He pulled the trigger again. “You’re bait.”
CHAPTER 29
Hannah fought Irish, but he was built like a linebacker, and she wasn’t. His arms were wrapped around her rib cage and his hand pressed over her mouth.
She wished his hand were over her eyes. Or her ears. Especially when the man shot Michael a second time.
The earth shook and rumbled beneath them, but Irish had a tight grip. He stumbled, but he didn’t let her go.
“Stop fighting me,” he said, his voice low and close to her ear. “I need you to stop so I can call for help. Okay?”
A sob worked its way up her throat, but she choked it off.
“Come on, Blondie,” Irish whispered. “We aren’t armed. If that guy finds us . . ” He left the rest of the thought unspoken.
She nodded.
She hadn’t known what to expect when she’d gone after Michael.
But she hadn’t expected this.
Irish’s hand eased off her mouth.
“I want my dad,” she whispered.
“I want the National Guard,” he said back, his fingers dialing.
Another gunshot. She flinched and slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. Another earthquake, this time hard enough to send cracks across the pavement and between the small cluster of trees where she hid with Irish. One of the trees gave a loud creak, and she gasped and started shifting backward, ready for it to fall.
Irish put a hand against the trunk. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s steady.”
But nothing was steady. The earth kept shaking, until tiny cracks began to form between Hannah’s fingers. The gun fired again, and the packed dirt and pavement buckled and gave way. She felt herself falling. She scrabbled for purchase.
Irish grabbed her arm and yanked her sideways. She found herself looking into a ravine—six feet deep and three feet across. It stretched from Michael all the way through the parking lot and out of sight. It wasn’t the only one.
And the ground hadn’t stopped shaking.
“Make it stop,” she said.
“I can’t,” said Irish. “He’s too strong.”
“He—what?” Wind whipped through her hair, chilling her cheeks, carrying the scent of the water. Another gust picked up grit and debris from the ground, sending it skittering into the ravine. Thunder boomed overhead, an almost deafening roar from the sky. A bolt of lightning hit a tree and branches exploded everywhere.
“What’s happening?” she cried. The wind picked up, beating her hair against her face.
“He’s setting a trap,” said Irish.
