Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
A thud lands on Dylan’s trunk as I speed off. “Quinn!” Farrow shouts as I drive.
I spot him and Lucas in my side mirror, Lucas’s furrowed brow fading as I escape.
Spinning the wheel, I curve a right, then another, heading back after the Dodge. Aro taps away on her phone.
I’m squeezing the wheel so hard, my thumbnails press onto the tops of my fingers. “Who are you texting?”
I don’t want any interference.
“Hawke.”
Dylan hangs over the back of my seat.
“Why?” I blurt out.
“Because he’s my boyfriend.”
Yeah, he’s also invasive and domineering, and he’ll tell Lucas or my brothers what we’re doing.
But then…
I think better of it. “Tell him to scan the traffic cams.”
No harm in him being useful before he scolds us.
Taking another right, I keep my eyes peeled for pedestrians, but mostly for the car as we pass Astrophysics. I lock my gaze ahead on two red taillights cutting left. “There it is.”
Stepping on the gas, I race to catch up and close the distance between us and the Dodge.
No one speaks. The old black car coasts right ahead of us, making no move to outrun us.
“What do we do?” Dylan whispers as if it can hear us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aro look over at me. I grind the wheel in my fists.
I’m not used to making decisions for other people. Especially out of this group.
My pulse quickens, and I’m afraid to talk or loosen my grip, because I’m shaking.
But I keep going. Following. Daring him—or her—to lead me.
Dylan’s phone connects to the car, and the next track from her playlist starts—“You Stupid Girl.” I hold back my laugh. If that isn’t a sign for me to retreat, I don’t know what is.
Staring at the lone figure in the vehicle ahead, I catch the slight movement in their rearview mirror.
They’re watching us too.
Reaching over, I switch off the headlights, my heart skipping every other beat.
“Quinn?” Aro prompts, alarmed.
The car accelerates. So do I.
What would I do if they stopped?
But they keep going, leading me away from the parties and the lights. Taking us somewhere private.
I hear fingers tap on screens and know Dylan and Aro are tattling on me. “Oh, come on, guys,” I tease under my breath. “It’s my turn.”
Dylan expels a sigh with a little growl, knowing she and Aro have done their fair share of stupid things. I might be too old for it now, but I guess that’s a matter of who I’m comparing myself against. My brothers still do stupid stuff all the time.
The Dodge vaults forward, and I press the gas.
“Faster,” Dylan urges.
“Pedestrians,” I retort.
I’ve got this, but I’m not going to risk hitting someone.
The Dodge turns, and I follow, the hair on my arms rising as I push the envelope. I don’t like speed, and I don’t like recklessness, but every moment sinks me further into danger, and I feel like someone new. Anticipation of all the possibilities for tomorrow, and the next day, and the next starts to fill my chest, and I’m taking in more and more air.
The Dodge jets off, propelling forward, and the girls start yelling.
“Go, go!” Dylan screams.
Followed by Aro, “Don’t lose ’em!”
I punch the gas, rounding another turn. My tires screech as the Dodge cuts right, then left, and I skid around after it.
But when I turn again, it’s gone.
I gape. “What…?”
We coast down the street, all of us pinned to the windows and scanning the side streets. Where the hell did it go?
And where is Lucas? He would’ve followed me.
Approaching Jared’s shop, I see the lights are all off, no one in sight, and the fireworks have stopped. The black night presses against the car on all sides, and I barely breathe as I scan for any sign of movement. Or headlights.
Shit.
“What should we do?” Aro searches out her window, through the streaks of rain. “Go back to the parties?”
“It’s here,” I tell them.
I know it is.
I’ll drop them off if they really don’t want any part of this, but the Night Rider is around. They’re playing with me.
Aro’s phone buzzes, lighting up her face as she looks down. “Hawke,” she tells us. She opens it and reads the text, “‘Behind you.’”
She and Dylan jerk their heads over their shoulders, and I lift my eyes to the rearview mirror.
Shrouded in the dark night, far behind us, it’s there. No headlights. The old grill. The bent license plate. The blackened windows.
I hold back the thrill bubbling in my chest, whispering, “There you are.”
My scalp feels like the head on a glass of soda. A million delightful little pops as the chase ensues. I shift and press the gas, the car vaulting forward.
“Quinn?” Aro plants one hand on her door and the other on the back of my seat, holding on.
A trickle of sweat glides down my temple. I stop breathing, pressing the gas a little more.