“You are many things, Wyatt, but a criminal mastermind isn’t one of them. I was taught self-defense for ten years. Zip-tying me with my wrists crossed leaves room for rotating and slipping my hands free.”
“I suppose your self-defense tutor didn’t tell you it’s stupid to reveal your tips and tricks to the man who did it to you.” I twist back in my seat, forcing air into my lungs. This is fine; I can handle this.
“He did, but you won’t be restraining me again,” Avery laughs softly.
“Oh?” I quirk a brow. Baxter stays sitting upright, his head ping-ponging back and forth between us. When she pauses, I forget how it’s in my best interest to ignore her and look up at the mirror again. Her teeth are nibbling her bottom lip, a smile fighting against the movement. She’s too calm, her shoulders too relaxed.
“Lesson number one was all about not fighting back, allowing your captor to become overconfident and careless. That’s the best way to catch them off guard.”
“What-” A flash of movement cuts across my peripheral vision, fast enough to snap my full attention back. Before I can process what’shappening, Avery lunges forward, the zip tie I used on her aimed for my throat.
My foot slams on the gas reflexively, but it only makes the car jolt forward, the engine roaring as I grapple for the tie. Her hold is relentless, the plastic cutting into my skin and pressing down on my windpipe. In the mirror, her eyes are blazing with a fury I’ve never seen before.
“Take me back,” she grits out. I writhe, causing Baxter to whine and howl.
“No,” I choke out, gasping for air.
"Take. Me. Back," she growls again, her voice dark and unforgiving, each word punctuated by another squeeze. "You don’t get to decide for me. You don’t get to take me away from my Souls."
"Avery!" I gasp, but the words come out garbled, barely audible. Her grip tightens, and I lose any semblance of control over the vehicle. My vision blurs, the road becoming a jagged blur of black asphalt and oncoming shadows.
The car swerves violently to the left as I try to wrestle her away from my throat with one hand, my other hand struggling to control the wheel. We barely manage to stay on the road, but there’s no chance of staying in a straight line anymore. Baxter lets out a panicked yelp beside me, but Avery doesn't shift, her body pressed against the back of my seat as she digs the tie into my neck.
The car skids, tires screeching as we veer too close to the shoulder. I can’t breathe, each second draining what’s left of my strength. The only thought in my mind is the faint, stubborn urge to stay alive. My free hand scrambles back to grip her hair, fingers prying and clawing, but she only presses harder, her face a mask of cold, determined rage.
"Let... go…" I manage to rasp, but my words dissolve into a pained groan. My foot slips off the accelerator, and the car jerks, screeching as it races dangerously close to the ditch on the side of the road. I can feel the wheels slipping as they hit the gravel.
The next moment is a chaotic blur. The car slams hard to the side, and suddenly, the world tilts. We careen down the ditch, metal crunching and glass shattering as the car flips, a violent cascade of jolts and crashes that throw me against the steering wheel and Avery against the ceiling. Baxter howls in terror as we roll, and then, as quickly as it started, everything stops.
Silence.
The taste of blood fills my mouth, coppery and sharp. The smell of gasoline and burnt rubber clouds the air, thick and suffocating. My chest heaves as I try to suck in a full breath, a strangled gasp escaping my bruised throat. A low whine sounds as I realize the weight on my chest isn’t imaginary. I wrap my arms around Baxter on instinct, checking him over as best I can. He seems intact, aside from a case of shivers.
I twist where I can, barely able to see Avery through the shattered glass, her face scraped and hair tangled, but her eyes are still wide open, and they're locked onto mine. Where I expect to see fear, I find a sense of crazed victory. Her lip is split, a dark patch blossoming against her bright hair. It’s the only evidence of an oncoming concussion as her blue eyes falter.
"I…win," she pants, her voice hoarse. “Call Dax. He’ll take me home.” She loses the fight against the arms holding her upright, crumbling into a heap before I get the chance to tell her I left our phones behind.
Chapter Two
The cold kiss of antiseptic stings as Wyatt presses a cotton ball to my temple. I watch him from a distance that’s almost surreal, like watching a stranger handle me with reverent care. I don’t recognise the empty expression on his face, devoid of anger or envy. In the very least, I’d expected waking to him screaming that I’ve wrecked Huxley’s car. I’m glad he didn’t, as my fragile head is on the verge of splitting in two if there happens to be any sudden noise.
He notices me staring but says nothing, continuing to apply gentle pressure to my head. We’re sitting on the damp earth, the SUV nearby, its white glossy exterior camouflaged by mud and leaves. A heavy head lies on my lap, the heated breath of Baxter coating my thighs rhythmically. I don’t have the energy to stroke him. I'm too focused on remaining upright. My cheek throbs where I feel glass has scraped my skin. My muscles are sluggish from exhaustion, no doubt the drug Wyatt used on me is still fighting to leave my system.
“I hate how easily I forgave you,” I croak without any venom. My irritation over that fact has nothing to do with Wyatt and everything to do with myself. It doesn’t matter that he was the secret writer of the letters I held dear. All I knew of Wyatt was that he spent years hating me and tormenting me. All the times he’s allowed me to feel like I wasn’t enough, like I didn’t belong. And out of pure desperation, I was so willing to forgive everything for a taste of him. To know what it feels like tobe held by him, to have his lips devour mine. “I hate that you make me so weak.”
“That makes two of us,” he replies softly, avoiding my gaze still. My heart thuds painfully. He could have lied and told me that I dreamt the whole thing. That Meg is safe, surrounded by her friends. But there’s no escaping this. Wyatt’s fingers lift to hold my chin, holding me in place as he works. “Stop squirming.”
I don’t know why I do just that, failing limp beneath his hold. I want to be plotting my next move, planning to dash into the shadows and disappear, but my mind can’t grasp a thought before the next slips into its place. There’s a throbbing pain in my neck which has been there since I woke in Hux’s car, and has only intensified with the crash. The more my awareness comes back, the quicker my body sinks into shock, causing my legs to tremble and back to seize tightly.
I shudder, briefly closing my eyes. The image of the boys is there to greet me, the only thing I can hold onto. Axel’s hazel eyes, Garrett’s boyish smile, Huxley’s crossed arms and Dax’s quiet confidence. I lean into them, pretending I’m huddled in their arms instead of nestled deep in a thicket of trees under a sky that’s teetering between twilight and dawn.
“You’re lucky I found this,” Wyatt says. I jolt back to reality and realize I was leaning against his shoulder, hindering his reach to my head. He waves at the red cross-emblazoned first aid kit on the ground like some saving grace. He’s already covered a cut on his bicep with a slapdash bandage, and the redness around his neck only faintly shows the marks my zip tie left.
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you,” I retort, voice rasping as the words slip past my swollen throat. Wyatt’s green eyes flash in the dim light.
“You think I wanted to crash? Or that I would choose this?” His voice is low, controlled, but there’s something jagged beneath it, barely restrained. “You’re not the only one with regrets here, Avery.”
And there it is. The mask he pulls on whenever he’s cornered. He lifts another cotton ball, disinfectant staining it bright red, and moves closer. His touch is rougher than before, as if he’s punishing me away with every swab. I jerk my head back, but his hand on my jaw tightens, refusing to let me turn away.
