Page 172 of Secret Obsession
It rings.
Rings.
The roar gets louder, and I step on the gas out of pure instinct. My car shoots forward, running a stop sign and speeding through an empty intersection.
“Yo,” Knox answers.
“I’m being followed by that asshole.”
“Where are you?” he demands.
I crank the wheel, turning onto another road. One that will lead past campus and the arena. But the last thing I need is to lead him straight to Willow. “Passing the rink in two minutes.”
The headlights fill my rearview mirror, and I have a split second to brace.
His truck slams into me from behind.
The rental car goes squirrely, the back end swinging around, and I drop my phone. I manage to keep myself on the road and press the pedal down farther. Our speed picks up, the car whining.
“I dropped my phone,” I call. “If you can still hear me, I’m fine. I’m sure he just wants to scare Willow by getting to me—”
Slam.
This time, his hit spins my car. I lose control completely, my speed now a detriment. One of my wheels catches on a curb, and the whole vehicle lurches sideways. My head bounces off something, and my vision goes white for a second. My stomach goes with the car as it flips over on its side, sliding with a sharp squeal across someone’s lawn. My seat belt is the only thing keeping me from eating shit.
“Miles,” Knox is yelling. His voice is tinny. “Jesus fuck—”
Slam.
Metal bends, and the car shudders. It’s flipped onto the roof. I hang upside down. I’ve still got stars blooming in front of my eyes, and I can’t seem to focus. There’s another shudder, and glass tinkers around me.
My door is wrenched open, letting in cold air.
Hands reach in, and my seat belt is cut. I fall, my body smashing on the steering wheel, and I’m dragged out of the car and across the lawn. My heels leave twin, grooved paths in the snow-covered grass.
I’m guided up into the bed of the truck, and it only occurs to me belatedly to fucking fight. I struggle, swiping at him, but he swings something down. I see it coming, but my reactions are too fucking slow.
Pain explodes across my temple, and I’m out like a light.
53
WILLOW
It’s been three days since we checked on the body. Daniel Freeman.
I’d rather not have his name attached. That’s where Miles got it right. As he said:It doesn’t really matter. A dead body is a dead body.
Jacob, via phone, warned us not to search this guy’s name. If the police do end up doing a deep dive into us, then our search histories could be evidence.
Nothing like terrifying a girl when all she wants is to find out who this guy is. What made him tick, what made him evil. What made him decide to put something inmydrink that night.
He could’ve gotten away with it if Miles wasn’t watching out for me. Actually, he absolutely would’ve. If I didn’t have a murderous guardian angel. If he didn’t carry me out of the bar before the drug took hold, I would’ve been helpless.
My breath catches, and I wrap my jacket tighter around me. Violet, Aspen, and Thalia are spread out across the row beside and below me, textbooks or laptops out. We’re at the arena waiting for practice to start. I have a notebook on my lap, with the pretense of copying my notes to study for an upcoming exam, but I’ve only written two lines.
I just can’t concentrate.
Something is rubbing me wrong on the inside. Like… a precursor to something bad happening.
