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The car is old. Old enough that I doubt it has automatic locks, judging by the way the interior looks. My doorislocked, sure, but I can see the lever to change that. In theory, all I have to do is shove the lever open, and the door is unlocked. I never put my seatbelt on, so there’s nothing stopping me from escaping once the door is open.
Nothing except the carmovingand all.
But at this point, I’m thinking that I’d rather jump out of a moving car than go with this man to wherever his destination is. And since I have no idea how much longer this trip is going to take, I need to get a move on.
“Why do you hate Cyril? And the others?” I can’t help but ask, eyes darting up to his in the mirror again. As I do, I look at the road in front of us, and to my relief, I see three different lights. If one of them turns red, he’ll have to stop. That’ll be my chance.
“They’re Nathan Chancellor’s dogs,” the man shrugs. “What’s there to like? Cyril Chancellor does his name nocredit. Or, I would say that if Nathan didn’t employ him to do the shit he’s toolazyfor. You know that’s how they’ve kept the city so long, right? By making sure that no one else has an opportunity to do anything here. It’s wrong.”
“So is kidnapping people,” I can’t help but point out. We pass the first light, which remains green. My heart sinks a little.
“This isbarelya kidnapping. And no one plans on hurting you, Arista.” I still hate the way he says my name. I hate that he knows it at all. “We’re going to help you. We’ll keep you away from Cyril and his boys so they can’t hurt you.”
“They’ve never hurt me. They’ve never put me in a car and driven away with me either,” I say mildly. “So really, it’s not them that are looking like the bad guys.” We pass the next light just as it turns yellow.
“You just need a better perspective,” the man promises. “My boss will give it to you. I promise, there’s really no reason to freak out about this.” The third lightisred and he slows the car down in response. My chest suddenly loosens, and I can breathe again.
Until it turns green.
I guess this is as good of a chance as I’m going to get.
As the man starts to speak again, I jam the unlock lever and shove the door open, his words turning into an indignant, panicked yell as he turns around to grab at my arm.
Thankfully I’m able to twist free, though the result is that instead of hitting the street on my feet, I lose my balance andslamto the ground on my side, my cheek scratching against the pavement.
I can’t lie here, taking stock of what hurts, however.
I have torun.
Somehow I shove myself to my feet,Davebellowing from the cab behind me as I stumble into a run with my feet slapping the pavement.
A car horn honks, and another car’s brakes squeal, but all I can look at is the sidewalk. That’s my destination, and as soon as I hit it, I turn down a side alley, going where he can’t follow me in his car.
With my blood rushing in my ears and my right sideburning, I keep running. My eyes water, but I blink that away and try to ignore the feeling of blood running down my face.
I have no idea where I am. I have no idea how to get back home or whereDaveis.
I just need to get out of here.
I run until I can’t anymore. Until my lungs burn so badly that my stomach churns. Finally, I have to stop, and immediately I turn in the small, empty alley I’m in and heave onto the asphalt. Thankfully I didn’t eat anything before this, so it’s only bile that splashes against the black ground at my feet.
Afterward, I stumble backward, my back hitting the wall, and slide down to sit on my ass. My entire body shakes, reminding me that I don’t do enough cardio to run like this, and the pain where I hit the pavement comes rushing back with a vengeance.
But I don’t let myself cry. A few tears may escape, but I shut my eyes and wipe them away, refusing to admit I’mcryingas I gulp in deep breaths of air that stings my abused lungs.
When my phone rings in the relative silence of the alley, I flinch and dig it out of my pocket, noting with relief that I still have Cy’s package as well. A glance at my phone shows me that it’s Cyril, so I put it to my non-stinging jaw as I answer.
“Hey,” I say weakly, my voice raw from heaving. “Sorry I missed all twenty-eight of your prior calls. I was a little busy.”
“Are you okay? Do you know where you are?”Cyril sounds like he’s in a car as well and like I’m on speaker. “Where were you taken?”
“I escaped,” I say, rather proud of myselfwhenI say it. “Like a champion.”
“How?”
“I…jumped out of a moving car, thank you very much–”
“Are you all right?”
