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“Where are we?” Cali asks.
We look around, but I don’t recognize anything. I think we’ve moved away from the house even more.
“Patrick, do you know how to get back to the house?” I ask.
He blinks hard. Like he can’t focus. He opens his mouth to speak, but his eyes roll back in his head. With a quiet moan, he collapses, taking me down with him.
“Fuck. What do we do now?” My shoulders drop and every part of me feels defeated and scared. I want my Daddy.
Cali shakes her head. “I don’t know. We have to find a place to hide. Maxwell said the rest are coming. We can’t stay out here in the open.”
Tears spill down my cheeks, but I brush them away, refusing to let myself crumble. “We need to get some kind of signal out. Smoke or something. Do we have anything to start a fire?”
My sister stares at me with a blank look. “You know we don’t. All we have is the gun. Oh, I can take the silencer off and shoot into the air. They’ll definitely hear it and come looking.”
I nod. She scrunches her face and grunts as she tries to twist the metal extension from the barrel.
“Fuck. I can’t get it off,” she cries.
Shit. Think, Scarlet.
When we don’t return in a reasonable amount of time, Killian and Declan will surely come looking for us. I have no doubt about that.
“We can leave a trail. Something only they would understand. Rocks or sticks or something,” Cali says.
A lightbulb goes off in my head and I hold up my finger. “Cheetos!”
Her eyes widen. “Oh my God, that’s brilliant.”
I grab the bag from my backpack and drop one of the delicious orange snacks on the ground. “We need to try to wake Patrick up. He’s too heavy for us to move him.”
She nods and we shake him until he groans.
“Patrick, we have to go. You have to get up,” I plead.
He opens his eyes and stares at me, blinking several times in obvious confusion.
“What the fuck is going on?” he slurs.
“You got shot and Maxwell and some other people are after us. We have to hide. We’re going to leave a trail of Cheetos for our Daddies so they can find us. You have to get up. We can’t carry you. Maybe start eating a salad once in a while. Or stop lifting such heavy weights. God, your muscles are as big as Declan’s head,” Cali’s shouts, waving her hands around her own head.
With our help, we get him to his feet, though we’re still supporting most of his weight while we slowly trudge through the brush. Every so often, I drop another Cheeto on the ground, hoping and praying our men will find us.
When we come to a dense spot in the forest, we find a cluster of trees that are so close together it’s nearly impossible to see into the center of them unless someone is really looking.
“There,” I point.
Cali nods, and we clumsily lead Patrick into the spot. As soon as we get him situated against the trunk of a tree, we drop to the ground, totally exhausted and breathing heavily.
My sister expertly pulls the clip from the gun and counts the bullets.
“We have nine bullets left,” she says.
“How do you know how to do all that?”
She grins. “Daddy and his men. They insisted I learn to shoot and know how to assemble and disassemble a gun completely. We practice all the time.”
Grady had mentioned teaching me how to use a gun. I wish he’d already had the chance. At least I know some self-defense moves. I’m quite proud of the kick to the balls I gave Maxwell. Bash would be proud too.
