But his words don’t match how I’m feeling inside. I don’t feel safe. I feel…uncertain. I feel…on edge. I feel unsteady.
“Here, have a drink of water,” he says and hands me a bottle from the front seat. “I also have some snacks too.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“At least drink the water, Blair.”
I let out a deep sigh, but I comply with his request. I mean, considering I just ran through the forest for God knows how long, I am thirsty. I’m probably hungry too, but the idea of food right now is repulsive.
I take a sip from the bottle and then a few more sips, and before I know it, I’ve chugged the whole damn thing.
Holland keeps his eyes on the road the entire time, but everything else about him feels like it’s focused on me.
Why was he nearby when I called?
Why hasn’t he asked me anything about what happened?
Why hasn’t he mentioned anything about my mom and dad being worried or a search party or…?
My thoughts come to an abrupt halt when my eyes grow heavy and my mind turns foggy. My stomach clenches with nausea, and all of a sudden, the back seat feels like it’s spinning.
I feel…strange.
I feel…
“Holland? I don’t…feeeeel…so…goooood,” I say, but my words come out like I’m talking in slow motion.
“Just rest your eyes, Blair. Everything will be fine.”
I try to open my mouth to say something, but then everything goes black.
Trust is a funny thing—sometimes, you fight it, even though your whole body agrees. And sometimes, you accidentally give it to the entirely wrong person for free.
Kane
I hit the outskirts of Ashford Hollow at full speed. This a tiny fucking town that we’ve occasionally used on supply runs when we’re at the cabin. It’s located in Connecticut and only about two hours from New York City.
As I break through the tree line, my eyes catch sight of an Escalade pulling out of the parking lot of the only grocery store in town.
It’s blacked-out, tinted windows, and polished in the way that screams money.
She’s in there.I can feel it with every cell in my body.
Fuck.
For half a second, I consider crossing the asphalt in a blur, ripping open the door, and dragging her out before anyone can blink.
But there are witnesses everywhere—local humans just milling about, doing their daily business of going to the grocery store and diner and bakery that sits at the end of the small downtownarea. Security cameras are mounted above the shops. A police station is across the street.
There are too many fucking eyes.
The SUV turns toward the interstate, her scent trailing behind it, and I just stand there, with dread overcoming my senses.
“She’s in there.”
The voice is calm, coming out of nowhere, but I instantly know it’s my brother. I turn to find Cal standing there, clearly having hauled some serious ass to catch up with me.
I don’t answer. I’m already watching the angle of the turn, the direction of the sun on the windshield, calculating distance and speed.
