Page 20 of Scarlet Wars
Pain flared in my ankle, but I shoved it aside.
Survival wasn’t always choice, but right now, it was a primal, unshakable drive.
Dave pulled back, his head tilting as if sensing something was wrong. “Wait?—”
Amy didn’t give him a chance to finish. She lunged forward, slamming her forehead into his face with a sickening crack.
He stumbled, rage flashing in his eyes, but I was already on him. My arms wrapped around his neck, cutting off his air, squeezing the veins that carried blood to his brain.
He thrashed, clawing at me, but I held on, my teeth clenched and my body screaming from the effort.
After what seemed like eternity, his body finally sagged beneath mine, before I let him drop to the floor. My arms felt like lead, my legs like jelly, but I forced myself upright. He wasn’t dead—I was too weak to kill him—but he wouldn’t wake up anytime soon.
“Let’s go,” I rasped, fumbling to free Amy’s ankle chain. The lock gave way, and Amy grabbed a set of keys from Dave’s pocket before weran.
Upstairs, the kitchen was eerily silent, the faint moonlight casting jagged shadows that felt alive.
Amy shot out her arm. “Hold on.” She glanced toward the stairs. A sudden rumbling sound echoed from below, vibrating through the floor. My blood turned ice-cold as we locked onto each other.
“Now,” I whispered.
We bolted to the front door, fumbling with the keys until the lock clicked. Throwing the door open, we burst into the freezing night. The darkness swallowed us, but the air tasted of freedom.
“This way!” Amy hissed, dragging me toward his battered truck parked haphazardly near the side of the house. My ankle screamed with every step, but I pushed through it, climbing into the passenger seat as Amy slid into the driver’s side.
The car roared to life, and Amy slammed her foot on the gas, sending us lurching forward down the dirt path.
As the house disappeared behind us, the adrenaline finally cracked something inside me.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my chest, and before I could stop it, I was laughing, the sound wild, almost manic. Amy shot me a sideways glance but didn’t say a word, her knuckles white against the wheel as she pressed harder on the gas.
We were out. And we were alive.
One day prior.
When I woke up and noticed the time on the truck’s cracked dashboard clock, I jolted upright in my seat. The sky outside was a dull gray, the first hints of dawn creeping through the trees. I must’ve been out cold for hours.
I glanced sideways, expecting Amy to look as rattled as I felt.
Instead, she was the picture of calm, her hands steady on the wheel, her expression unreadable, as if she were on a Sunday drive instead of fleeing for her life.
“Seriously?” I muttered, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “You’re more relaxed than anyone in the history of traumatized victims of abductions.”
Her lips quirked, the ghost of a smile. “I’ve always been good under pressure.”
Quite the understatement.
“Where are we?” I asked, as I craned my neck to look out the window. The dense forest we’d been racing through was now giving way to open fields and quiet roads.
“Vermont,” she said breezily, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “We crossed the state border hours ago.”
I blinked at her, stunned. “What? How?”
Amy shrugged, a flicker of mischief crossing her face. “Sweet-talked the guys at the state border. Told them we were heading up for some early hiking, you know, before the tourists get there. My charming personality did the rest.”
She paused, then added dryly, “Being human helped a lot.”
A snort burst out of me before I could stop it. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”
