The night creaks around us, the same way it did right before the watcher moved. Time is thinning. The woods are listening.
“Then we move out before dawn,” I say. “Backroads only. No signals. No stopping unless I say so.”
“Okay.”
“And Hazel?”
“Yeah?”
I meet her eyes fully, letting her see the fear I never show anyone.
“If I tell you to run, you run. You don’t argue. You don’t look back. You go. Understand?”
Her throat bobs. “I understand.”
I exhale, slow and shaky in a way I hope she doesn’t notice. Because the truth is?
If things keep unfolding like this, I don’t know if either of us will get a chance to run.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
RUN BOY RUN
HAZEL
Zack’s warning ran through me like a bolt of electricity. What kind of danger are we in if he’s telling me to run if he saysrun? I feel my heart lodging in the base of my throat as my breath quickens. His soulless eyes look more empty than I ever remember them looking like before. I don’t understand how this all got so dangerous so damn fast.
I try my best to put that ever-present smile on my face. It’s what I’m known for, and it's what he needs right now, even though I literally feel like the world around me is crumbling and it’s all a lie.
Zack mounts his motorcycle while I put my helmet on and struggle getting my short ass legs over his bike. “We’re going to need to discuss logical modes of transportation, because this bike is wildly dangerous, and I can comfortably say I am going to fall off this fucking death trap.”
His face is humorless as he turns around and faces me, slams my helmet visor shut, and turns back around. Zack guns the engine, and the vibration crawling up my spine before I can say anything else. The roar thunders through the quiet street, ricocheting off the buildings—too loud, too exposed. My pulse jumps even harder. Whatever sound we heard in those trees—whatever made Zack’s face drain of every trace of life—I canstillfeel it behind us. Like it’s reaching invisible fingers toward my back, clawing away at my soul.
He doesn’t look at me again. He just jerks his chin, a silenthold on, and then the bike launches forward.
The wind slaps against me so sharply I gasp, arms locking around his torso like I’ve been welded to him. The world blurs, streetlights streaking into gold smears as we tear through town. I can’t hear the mysterious sound anymore. I can barely hear myself think. Maybe that’s the point.
“Where are we going?” I shout, my voice muffled inside my helmet.
He only shouts back one word: “Home.”
Not my home, definitely not mine…his. And for some reason, that sends a colder shiver through me more than the wind does. How did I not realize he lived in Tennessee? It just goes to show how little I know about this man, one that I’m beginning to think I might be a little more into than I’m letting on, even to myself.
By the time he swerves into a narrow, gravel driveway, my thighs are shaking so badly I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand. The house is small and half-lit, the porch light flickering like it’s trying todecide whether life is worth living. Zack kills the engine, and the sudden silence makes my ears ring.
I peel myself off the bike, wobbling. “I swear my soul briefly left my body back on the freeway.”
“Good,” he mutters, pulling off his helmet. “Maybe it’ll stay gone and keep you quiet.”
“Oh wow,” I deadpan. “Look at you. A poet.”
Before he can form any type of retort, the front door swings open and a lanky guy with floppy, dark hair and a warm, amused smile leans against the frame.
“Zacharyyy,” he drawls. “You brought home a girl? Should I alert the press? Or a therapist?”
Zack groans, like this is the moment he’s been dreading his entire life. “Sam, don’t.”
“Sam,do,” I say immediately.
