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“I know. I know. This is messed up.”
With his legs free, Sam stood. “Is this another trick? Are they going to follow me to Astrid?”
“No, man. They’ll beat me up if they find out I let you go.” Quinn spread his hands, pleading. “You have to take me with you.”
“How am I supposed to trust you, Quinn?”
“If you leave me here, what do you think Caine is going to do to me?”
Sam had no time for argument. He decided quickly. “You’d better pray Astrid doesn’t get hurt, Quinn. If you’re doing this to sell me out, you better make sure I’m dead, too.”
Quinn licked his lips nervously. “You don’t have to threaten me, brah.”
“Don’t call me brah,” Sam said. “I’m not your brother.”
TWENTY-THREE
128 HOURS, 22 MINUTES
ASTRID FELT A wave of relief followed by a far stronger wave of self-loathing. She had let Drake terrorize her. She had called Little Pete a retard.
Her hands were trembling. She had betrayed her brother. She hated him for being what he was, for being so needy, and she had betrayed him to spare herself. And now she was far more angry at herself than she had ever been at him.
But now she had to think. Quick. What to do?
Drake would catch her again. Surely Caine or that wicked creature Diana would figure out what had happened.
It would take only a few seconds for Drake to run to report to them. A few seconds more for Caine to realize what had happened. If Diana really could read the power in people, she would know it wasn’t Astrid who had teleported them. She would know it was Little Pete.
She and Little Pete had to go. Now. But where?
Somewhere Drake wouldn’t look. Somewhere Sam might look.
If he escaped.
If he was even alive.
Her brain was moving in slow motion, spinning in circles, unable to focus. She kept seeing that terrible, sick face, feeling the sharp sting of his hand, the way the heat of it lingered and joined with the hot blush of shame.
r /> “Think, you idiot,” she berated herself. “Think. It’s all you’re good at.”
They couldn’t go through town. They couldn’t take a car—it was too late to start teaching herself to drive.
Her mind was an out-of-focus camera, turning and swirling and coming back again and again to the moment when the fear took over, when she couldn’t resist anymore, when she betrayed her brother. Over and over a loop in her head played the words “My brother is a retard.”
Clifftop.
The room they had shared there that first night.
Yes. Sam would figure it out. But Quinn had been there, too. He might reach the same conclusion.
Astrid hesitated. No time for hesitation. Drake wouldn’t hesitate. By now, he was already after them. He was already on his way.
She couldn’t face him again.
“Petey, we have to go.” Astrid grabbed his hand and drew him after her. Down the stairs. No time to stop for anything. No time at all.
To the front door. No. Back door was better.
