“She’s a wild one. Maybe you can’t handle her,” Stinky Peete walks over with his fly still undone. I gasp for air and flinch involuntarily beneath them, completely helpless on a deserted road with four raving lunatics. Triple Shit.
“Nah, I’ve changed my mind. She’s all mine.” Wyatt bends down, lifting me easily against his chest and dumping me into the passenger seat. I jerk back into action, lunging for the keys in the ignition with the intent to throw them over the cliff’s edge, but my movements are too sluggish. Wyatt catches me, climbing into the small space to pin me into the seat with an iron-tight grip on my upper arms. Using his body to hold me in place, he reaches over into the back seat to retrieve something while my face is smushed against his solid chest.
Returning his hand to my left shoulder and sitting back to straddle me once again, he strokes a path downwards, tickling my inner arm in a move that disturbs me more that if he’d tried to sever it. A glint of metal in the streetlight flashes as his hand closes around my wrist, swiftly locking a handcuff into place. Wyatt then leans to close the other cuff around the steering wheel. I struggle and buck beneath him, the metal cutting into my flesh as I fight to slip my hand through the gap.
Hopping up and slamming the car door shut, Wyatt rounds to the driver’s side and commands for the others to head back for Avery before getting in. The three of them are standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the car, two sets of puffy eyes glaring at me as they all oddly nod in compliance. Apparently, Wyatt’s official order actually means something to the group. Hanging my head in defeat, I hope to hell Avery is running as far away as she can right now.
Yanking on the cuff’s chain to test its strength, Wyatt bends over to grin right in my face, his shadowed eyes regard me coldly. “All mine,” he whispers, looking to my lips and hovering close as if he might kiss me. I remain completely still, not playing in his game. Chuckling, he begins to pull back and I can’t resist anymore. Rearing my head back, I pull back as much salvia as I can muster onto my tongue and spit right into his smug face. A high-pitched cackle erupts from my lips, his revolted features glistening. Shouting in disgust, he lifts the hem of his t-shirt to wipe his face roughly. My eyes ashamedly fall to the hard outlines of his abs long enough not to notice his oncoming elbow seconds before the lights go out.
Avery
The sun is cresting over a mountain far in the distance as we roll into town, birds swirling overhead in hunt for their breakfast. The orange glow reflects on the hood of the similar coloured Nissan, my heavy eyelids open wide as anticipation sinks in. I glance down every alleyway along the long stretch of road, paranoid one of those gorilla goons will be lurking in wait for another chance to grab me. Each shop is dark inside, closed signs hanging in the doorways and not a single person to be seen.
“There,” I lunge forward and point out a pale-yellow building with a doctor’s surgery logo printed in the window. Dax turns into the alleyway alongside the building, parking around the back as I turn to check on Huxley. He’s slept the entire journey with what I hope is from sleep deprivation and not a concussion, although he did rouse every time I gave him a rough shake. A part of me wanted to climb back there and curl up on his chest like a cat but I have too much on my mind to rest. I watched a mafia thug stuff my sister into the trunk of a car and drive off through the camera feed, I refuse to take comfort from anyone while she’s trapped and alone.
We remain in the car for a long time, the tension between myself and Dax thick enough to choke on. We’ve barely said a word to each other unless it’s been completely necessary. Occasionally, he turns towards me and opens his mouth as if needing to say something, but decides against it, slumping back in his seat and folding his arms with a huff. Although I have a feeling what he wants to say, and I don’t want to hear it. A million apologies wouldn’t be enough to forgive him and he knows it. The orange and pink sky gives way to a blue one with not a cloud in sight as more cars begin to drive past at the opposite end of the alley.
A man in a pristine lab coat appears, shuffling towards us with a doughnut stuffed into his mouth, holding a steaming travel mug and checking his watch every ten seconds. His thinning white hair gives way to a bald patch on top and thin glasses sit on the bridge of his nose. He’s on the plump side, his coat buttons straining around his middle and short legs moving as fast as they can. Not noticing the fancy car facing him, he fumbles with his keys before finding the right one and pushing it into the rear door lock.
Dax throws his door open and flies from his seat so quickly, even I flinch as he rounds the car. Stepping a foot inside the surgery, the doctor wheels around as Dax calls out to him, making him spill his coffee onto his jacket
