“I am!”
The engine screams, high and desperate, but the machine doesn’t go anywhere.
“We’ve gotta get the fuck out of here!”
My stomach drops as it finally hits me.
Those voices.
I’ve heard them before. In that grocery store in Billings. In the alleyway outside the Busted Barrel.
The Coates brothers. Well, two out of the three at least. The third must be in the second ATV.
“Get out!” one of them shouts. “We gotta dig it out.”
The engine cuts, and silence crashes down so suddenly my ears ring. My heart’s pounding loud enough, I swear they can hear it.
Doors slam open.
Boots hit the snow.
That’s when I feel Kat move beside me.
Just barely a shift of the weight, followed by a stuttering breath. I turn my head as much as the hood will allow, pressing my shoulder into hers.
The seatbelt digs across my chest, pinning me in place, but my hands—bound in front—fumble blindly along the strap. My fingers shake so badly I miss it twice before I find the buckle.
Click.
Kat slumps forward, just enough forher bound hands to reach my belt.
Click.
We’re loose.
We tear our hoods off, wanting to free ourselves as quickly and efficiently as possible, knowing good and well the moment they see us with them off, whatever silent plan we’re brewing will be over.
I feel Kat moving about the cab for a moment before she grabs for my wrists and pulls them forward. The feeling of something hard and sharp sawing at the plastic around my wrists vibrates through my body until finally—
Snap.
My hands are free.
Making as little noise as possible while the two idiots fumbling around out in the snow continue digging the ATV out with their hands, I grab Kat’s hands—my fingers numb and clumsy from the cold and adrenaline—and reach for the same sharp edge.
“Hurry,” she whispers, voice trembling with fear.
The second the tie gives way, Kat’s eyes snap to mine. Her face is pale. Tear-streaked. Eyes wild and shining. I push her hair back with shaking hands, and she does the same to me. Her thumb brushes my cheek before she briefly presses her forehead against mine.
“I’m sorry,” she breathes.
I shake my head as a tear falls from my eye. “We have to go. I love you.”
Her eyes search mine for a moment, memorizing me, before she whispers, “I love you, Anya.”
We don’t waste another second.
We fling the doors open and run.
