Griffin and Knox flank my sides as we weave in and out of vacated booths and carnival games, adrenaline increasing our speed. Waylon’s steps pound through the grass behind us.
My gasped breaths make my lungs burn. “What about Noah?” I shout.
“Benny and Kat will get him out,” Griffin replies. Satisfied with his answer, we head in the direction of the Ferris wheel.
A glance over my shoulder shows me that Waylon is gaining on us. A prickling sensation trickles up my spine, causing me to stumble a step, bringing Waylon closer.
“Raven!” Griffin and Knox shout together; the fear in their voices is evident.
We’re a half a football field away from the back of the carnival when Waylon’s next verse makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
“All around the empty streets,
Griffin chased the madman.
Knox thought you were out of harm’s way,
Pop! Goes the weasel.”
As soon as the echo of his last word reaches my ears, I’m thrown forward and off my feet a few yards. Landing flat on my stomach knocks the air out of my lungs. Dirt, pieces of wood, grass, and other debris rain down on the backside of my body.
My ears ring from the blast, and my head spins. But my worry for Knox and Griffin pushes me to lift my gaze to find them. They’re face down in the grass, covered in rubble and groaning from the pain.
Pushing myself up to all fours, I open my mouth to call to them, but a hand covers my lips, and I’m hauled up to my feet.
“You ruined everything,” a masculine voice growls in my ear. A voice I would know anywhere.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
KNOX
Aches and pains stiffen every muscle in my body. My head pounds like it has its own pulse. Pushing up to my feet, the world spins, threatening to knock me right off my feet again. I bend in half, resting my hands on my knees until the dizziness subsides.
What the hell is going on? Whitlock is supposed to be in jail, so how did he send this man after Raven? I believe Raven called him Waylon.
A terrified shout screeches over the annoying ring in my ears, but the shout is muted as if I’m hearing it underwater.
Slowly opening my eyes, I glance around and find Griffin stumbling to his feet. But instinctively, I know the cry wasn’t from him.
That’s when I notice Raven isn’t between us. Spinning in a circle, I find a man with salt and pepper hair dragging Raven away. Her shouts don’t travel far because his hand is over her mouth.
Wiping the dirt from my eyes, I get a clear picture of a battered Lewis Whitlock, hauling Raven away. She has a streak of blood on the side of her face from her hairline to her chin, andher face paint is half gone. She flails about wildly, scratching any part of Lewis she can reach.
My nostrils flare as my breathing becomes labored. “Griff! He’s got her!”
Griffin snaps to and barrels with me after them. We catch up in a few seconds. When Lewis spots us, he whips out a knife, holding the blade to the base of Raven’s throat. He removes his hand from Raven’s mouth and wraps his arm around her stomach, continuing to drag her with him.
“Back off!” Lewis warns us, digging the sharp edge further into Raven’s skin.
Griffin holds up his hands, showing Lewis they’re empty. “You don’t need to do this. You’ve escaped jail. You can go on the run and get far away from here. I’ll even give you the keys to my truck. You can take it.”
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear anything from you! You two ruined everything!”
I make my own attempt. “Lewis?—”
“I said, shut up!” he cuts me off, jolting as he yells. He inadvertently cuts into Raven’s skin, causing a drop of blood to roll down her throat.
Griffin keeps his hands up, inching toward them. “Just tell us what you want.”
