Jason’s heart pounded against my chest. My own matched it beat for beat.
The sudden stillness was almost surreal.
“Are you all right?” His voice was a rough whisper against my cheek.
I nodded and a wave of dizziness made everything spin as bile rushed up the back of my throat. I struggled to speak. “Think so. You?”
“So far.”
There was a shout from outside. The Town Car shook as one of the front doors was wrenched open, and there was a jagged scream that abruptly cut off.
Everything went horribly quiet.
Voice raw, I whispered, “If you’re carrying any sort of weapon, now would be a really good time to tell me.”
“Only my razor-sharp wit.”
We were so dead.
Fear flooded Jason’s eyes and I knew he was thinking the same thing.
We were going to die.
We were going to die far from home and everyone who cared about us.
We were going to die, and no one would ever know what had happened.
I choked back a sob.
Outside, there were more shouts followed by the sound of an engine—the jeep, probably. A single gunshot rang out.
“Mac . . . I . . . if . . . Oh, what the hell.” The space we were wedged in was barely wide enough for Jason’s shoulders, but he somehow flipped us so that my back was pressed to the floor and his body was covering mine.
My hands were trapped against his chest. “Jason, what—”
Before I could finish the question, his lips crashed against mine.
I went completely still as the kiss stole the breath from my lungs. I should have pushed Jason away—I knew that—but I was scared. So scared. If these were our last minutes on earth—if this was the end—wasn’t it better for a kiss to be the last thing I remembered?
My lips parted under Jason’s and the kiss deepened. It wasn’t fierce and desperate; it was sad and lost. I managed to get my hands free and slipped my arms around him, holding him close as I tried to block out the sound of more gunshots.
Jason pulled back a fraction of an inch. “I love you.” The words were a shaky whisper against my lips.
I held him tighter because it was the only thing I could do.
The door behind Jason was yanked open and light flooded the back of the car.
“No!” My scream echoed in my ears as he was pulled outside.
I started to scramble after him, but the other door was wrenched open and strong arms locked around my waist. They pulled me back, into the bright sunlight.
As soon as my legs cleared the car, I fought. I kicked and yelled and scratched with my nails. I caught flashes of movement—other people in a barren field along the side of the road—but they were only impressions.
They could kill me, but I was going to inflict as much damage as humanly possible first.
“Jesus Christ, kid.”
I froze and glanced down at the hands holding me.
Familiar spiderwebs of scars across the knuckles and a silver ring—a ring, I realized, that bore the same symbol as the charm on my bracelet.
For the second time—third if you counted his attempt to get me out of the camp—my father had come to my rescue.
No sooner had the details clicked into place than Hank’s hands fell away. I stumbled and caught myself against the open car door as Jason came to my side.
The rest of the field slowly came into focus.
A handful of men and women milled around, all of them looking more than capable of taking care of themselves. Since their presence didn’t seem to bother Hank, I assumed they were part of his pack.
A white jeep was parked fifty feet away, its hood crushed like a tin can. A body was slumped over the steering wheel.
One Tracker—the one who looked like a runner—was lying dead on the ground halfway between the jeep and the Town Car. He had taken a bullet to the head. The bodies of two men lay crumpled not far away. I walked over to them and stared down at what I could see of their faces. Though they were wearing plainclothes, I recognized them as guards from Thornhill.
My stomach flipped. “Did you kill them?” I asked, looking up.
“Didn’t have much choice. They started firing as soon as they saw us.” The stubble Hank had been sporting the other night had filled out into the beginnings of a full beard. His battered leather jacket bulged slightly on the left side, a sign he was carrying at least one gun. He raised an eyebrow. “Any objections?”
“None,” I replied, my voice flat and hard and unfamiliar to my own ears. The guards had fired on the car and run us off the road. I had no illusions about what they would have done to Jason and me.
“Did you kill the Trackers?” Jason’s voice was carefully blank.
The look Hank shot him was long and appraising. After a moment, he shook his head. “They hauled that one out and shot him before they saw us. The other one is in the car. Looks like he was hit and bled out just after the crash.” It was clear he didn’t consider the two deaths a loss.
I stepped away from the bodies at my feet. “These ones are guards. From Thornhill.” I swallowed and glanced at the Town Car. It was riddled with more spots than a Clearasil ad. If Hank and his wolves hadn’t shown up when they had . . .
I shook my head. “How did you find us? How did you know we were in trouble?”
Hank’s gaze drifted down to my bracelet. “There’s a tracking chip inside the charm. That way, if the men I bribed to get you out had gone back on the deal, I would have at least known where you were.”
A voice called him over to the jeep. “Stay here,” he ordered, striding away before I could respond.
“What men? What bribe?” Jason’s voice was sharp. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Nothing,” I said quickly as I started after Hank. If he had known where I was, then he’d be able to track Eve. He’d know if Sinclair had her.
I had barely gone three feet when I caught a glimpse of red out of the corner of my eye.
“Impressive.” Eve stood where I was certain there had been empty space just a moment before. She rocked back on the heels of a pair of cherry-colored Doc Martens. Gone was the gray Thornhill uniform; in its place was a baggy flannel shirt knotted over a black tank top and jeans. There was a tired, pinched look around her eyes, but otherwise she looked fine. Better than fine. “I leave you on your own for less than a day and you piss off the warden so bad that she sends a hit squad after you.”
“You know what they say,” muttered Jason absently as his gaze swept the field. “If you don’t have at least one person out to kill you before breakfast, you’re not living up to your potential.”
Eve ignored him. “Dex and Kyle?”
I shook my head. “Sinclair has them. Last I saw, Dex was pretty out of it.” I couldn’t tell her about Kyle. Not until I trusted myself to do so without breaking.
She glanced away as she ran a hand through her hair. “There were too many guards. Dex and I split up. And then, with the truck . . . I wanted to go back and make sure he was okay, but Tanner said there wasn’t time.”
“Tanner?” I frowned and rubbed my arm where the redheaded guard had gripped it. “What does he have to do with anything?”
“He was the guard Han—Curtis paid off. Turns out he’s actually RfW.”
Suddenly, the way Tanner had tried to calm the other guard that first time in the sanatorium made sense. As did the way he had looked at my bracelet. He must have known who I really was the second he had seen it.
Eve scowled. “I shouldn’t have listened to him. I should have gone back and helped Dex.”
