I shift carefully, assessing the back seat without drawing Harrison’s attention. He appears far too relaxed in the passenger seat, his fingers tapping idly against his knee. He’s watching the road ahead, seemingly at ease, but I don’t miss the sharp flick of his eyes toward the rearview mirror, checking on us every few seconds.
Aside from the seat belts, which are impossible to break without a tool, I have nothing but the damp warmth of Meg’s arm pressed against mine. A cold rush of night air filters in through a cracked window after Harrison declared he couldn’t handle Meg’s smell. I don’t even notice, my mind firing on so many other levels that my senses appear dulled.
Behindthe wheel, his henchman is focused, hunched over the steering wheel like he’s desperate to push the car faster. The traffic lights ahead flash red, and for a breathless moment, I wonder if he’ll run straight through. He doesn’t, coming to a hesitant and brief stop. Peering through the window, I try to catch someone’s attention and fail when realizing the glass is blacked out. Then I try the door handle to no avail, and a click sounds beside my ear.
“Don’t even think about it,” Harrison growls, the gun pushed against my head. I let my hand drop away, retreating into my seat. He grins, twisting back in his seat, the gun settling back on his lap. The light turns green, and we glide forward in unison with the cars all around. Lost to the masses, no one suspects us. No sirens. No flashing lights. The city keeps moving, completely oblivious. I squeeze my eyes shut, slowly breathing through my nose.
Okay.Okay. I need a plan. Angling my body towards Meg, I keep my voice barely above a whisper. “Meg.” No response. I nudge her with my shoulder, my fingers curling against her palm. “Meg, you with me?”
Her lashes flutter, but she doesn’t turn to look at me. Instead, she blinks sluggishly, her mouth parting like she wants to say something, but the words don’t come. My stomach twists. I don’t know what they did to her before arriving at the casino, but I can guess, and every possibility makes me want to rip someone’s throat out. It’s evident the longer she remains unresponsive to me, that she’s under the influence of something. I try again.
“Meg, I need you to stay awake. We’ll get out of this, but I need you with me, okay?” A flicker of awareness crosses her face, but it’s gone just as quickly, swallowed up by whatever fog they’ve forced her into. Harrison chuckles under his breath, shaking his head at the entertainment I’m apparently providing him. I clench my jaw, refusing to stop trying. Meg, the real version of her, wouldn’t give up if it was me.
The city blurs past in streaks of yellow street lights and fluorescent storefronts. The hum of the tires against the road fills the silence, but it doesn’t drown out the rapid pounding of my pulse or the shallow wheeze of Meg’s breathing beside me.
She’s slipping further away with each second, her head lollingagainst the window, eyelids fluttering. I don’t know if it’s from exhaustion, drugs, or shock, but I do know that if I simply sit here and hope the Souls save us, it’ll be too late. I need to act now.
I continue my search. My fingers stretch out without moving my body far, feeling for anything I can use, but the car is sleek, expensive, and clutter-free. No stray pen, loose wires, or discarded wrappers with sharp edges. Then, my wrist grazes against something rough. My breath catches, but I’m careful to keep my face passive when Harrison flicks his eyes to the rearview mirror. He looks away, and I continue my exploration.
Just below the seat belt buckle, where the leather seat meets the center console, the thin edge of a plastic peeks out, looped and forgotten. I cast a quick glance at Meg’s wrists, noting the thin indents marring her pale skin. The exact type one would receive from being bound by a zip tie. Whether the one poking my finger is from her old binds or intended for a new one, it’s now wedged in the crack between the seats. A stroke of luck, a miracle in the form of hardened plastic, and I nearly let out a hysterical laugh.
Keeping my movements small, I angle my body just enough to pretend I’m not reaching for it, my fingers straining. The zip tie is stiff, resisting as I try to work it free without drawing attention. My arms ache from being kept so rigid, my wrists screaming from the unnatural angle, but finally, after a few torturous seconds, the tie gives, slipping loose into my palm. I curl my fingers around it, tucking it behind my back to keep it hidden.
Now comes the hard part. I swallow, shifting just enough to push my weight against Meg, making it look like I’m just adjusting in the seat. I don’t expect a reaction from her, but she makes a faint, broken sound with a slight movement, barely more than a breath. Harrison looks at us in the mirror, eyes sharp with amusement.
“Aww, how touching,” he croons, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Worried about your sister, sweetheart?”
I meet his gaze head-on, my grip tightening around the plastic. The driver cuts into another lane, heading directly for the merging of the freeway. I’m running out of time. There’s too much distance between us and anyone who might be trying to follow. As soon as we hit thefreeway, it will be speeding and lane-hopping directly out of the state. We’ll be as good as lost. It’s now or never.
“Not as much as you should be worried about me,” I manage to smirk without my voice breaking. Harrison’s smirk falters, confusion flickering for a split second before I move. I lunge forward, arms lurching over the seat, the zip tie stretched between my fists. Harrison doesn’t have time to register what’s happening before I loop it over his head and pull.
His body jerks violently, a strangled gasp bursting from his throat as the plastic cuts into his skin. He thrashes, fingers clawing at his neck, but I hold on, bracing my knees against the seat for leverage, teeth gritted as I pour every ounce of strength into tightening the restraint around his throat. His gun clatters to the floor, slipping from his grip as his hands scramble uselessly at the zip tie, nails scraping against plastic.
The driver shouts, swerving the car hard enough to send my body whipping sideways, but I don’t let go. Thanks to Wyatt, this isn’t my first rodeo, and I know exactly how to derail a car I don’t want to be in.
Harrison chokes, a garbled sound ripping from his throat as his face darkens, his limbs flailing wildly. The driver is yelling, trying to reach for him while still gripping the wheel, but the car is veering dangerously now, the tires screeching as we careen toward the curb. Suddenly a bone-crushing force slams into my face.
Stars explode in my vision as pain shatters through my skull, my grip instantly loosening. My head snaps back, the taste of blood filling my mouth as the driver’s elbow connects solidly with my cheekbone. The world tilts, everything swimming in and out of focus, and before I can recover, the car jerks to a violent stop.
The force flings me forward, my forehead smacking into the back of the headrest with a sickening thud. The zip tie slips from my fingers completely, and Harrison gasps, sucking in ragged, desperate breaths as he claws at his throat. I try to blink away the black spots dancing in my vision, my mind sluggish, dazed. Stupidly, despite the agony flaring through my face, all I can think is, ‘That was so badass. I bet Meg is impressed’.
But Meg isn’t much of anything. She doesn’t react, and she doesn’t cushion my fall or stop Harrison from reaching back to grab a handfulof my hair. Wrenching my head back towards him, Harrison’s furious, red-faced snarl fills my spinning vision.
“You little bitch,” he wheezes, his voice raw, his eyes murderous. His fingers tighten in my hair, yanking hard enough to make my scalp burn. “You’re gonna fucking pay for that.” I let out a slow, fragile breath, blood dripping from my lip onto my chin. But I don’t look away.
It’s surprising how many thoughts can fly through a mind in less than a moment. How someone can reflect on their life, their choices, and how they ended up here. I was the girl who was so afraid of being hurt again, both physically and emotionally, that I refused to leave the home I was fortunate to be welcomed into. At Wyatt’s expense, but I didn’t know that at the time. I was so scared of love I hid from it, unaware of how much my heart craved affection. Then I met my Souls.
They were instantly drawn to me because they believed it was their job to protect me. I’ve often thought men are more affected by fairy tales than women, boosting their noble intentions and giving them a false sense of purpose always to be the savior, even when the damsel is more than capable of saving herself. Would prefer to, in fact.
I didn’t need saving; I needed liberating. And here I am. The new Avery is the girl who knows what she’s worth and what she can face. I’m a woman without limits because I have love to bolster me. And ultimately, if my bravery is for nothing, I have men to mourn me. I’ve made my mark on this world rather than hide from it. And I stuck to my promise to save Meg.
So even through the haze of pain, even as my head pulses with the force of the impact, I hold Harrison’s gaze, my lips curling into the faintest, bloodstained smirk. “Then hurry up and do it.” Harrison’s grip on my hair tightens for a fraction of a second, his fingers like iron claws against my scalp before something in the rear windscreen spooks him.
He abruptly lets go, shoving me backward with enough force that I slam against the door, my already battered body jolting from the impact. My ears ring, not grasping the sharp bark of orders being shouted from outside. The sudden blaze of red and blue lights floods the inside of the car, painting everything in frenzied flashes of color. The wail of sirens pierces the night, cutting through the static hum in my skull and dragging me back into the present.
“Shit,” the driver hisses, his head snapping toward Harrison, hishand already yanking a gun from the waistband of his jeans. “They took the backroads and made a beeline for us. How the hell did they know where we were?” Two pairs of accusing eyes cut to me in the mirror, but I can’t even bring myself to shrug.
Harrison swipes a hand over his raw, reddened throat, his breath still rasping as he bends forward to locate his dropped revolver. Twisting in his seat, he glares down at me, fury radiating from him in waves. For an endless moment where my heart forgets to beat, I’m sure he’s going to turn the gun on me, his fingers twitching around the grip, but then...
