“I’m sharing our location,” I fire off, struggling to run and tap the screen simultaneously. “We’re running and he’s after us. Hurry.”
I end the call, hazard a glance behind us to see that Alistair hasn’t emerged yet, and then turn to Grant.
“Swords?” I screech as we tear down the street. “Your secret hobby wasswords? And you didn’t think to mention it?”
He huffs out a breath. “I didn’t think it would come up!”
“SWORDS?!” I shriek again.
“Could we maybe talk about this later?”
I have no intention of letting him off the hook that easily, but a sound from down the street steals our attention. Not a front door slamming, but the mechanical drone of a garage door. Alistair peels out onto the street in a weathered black Mercedes and speeds toward us.
“Shit.”I whip around the corner alongside Grant and grab him by the arm, hauling him into an alley I’m hoping the car can’t fit through. No such luck, judging by the screech of tires that follows. I don’t have to look behind me to know Alistair is plowing down garbage bins and parked bicycles in hot pursuit.
“Lesley and Lissa are on their way,” I yell to Grant over the noise. “If we can just lead Alistair somewhere they can trap him …”
“Got it,” he shouts, pointing to a side street ahead.
It’s an endurance game as we lead Alistair on a wild-goose chase, making sure he doesn’t lose us but can’t fully catch up, either. There’s a fire building in my chest, singeing my throat, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up when, finally, I hear the signatureAHOOGAof Lesley’s car horn. He and Lissa turn onto the road, a block behind Alistair. Never have I seen a more welcome sight.
Grant and I race onto the main road, dodging construction barricades andBRIDGE CLOSURE—DETOURsigns, hunting for a placeto trap Alistair. We duck into another alley, taking advantage of a precious few moments when Alistair is blocked by crossing traffic, laying on his horn. I glance across the street toward the river, where a line of bright orange traffic cones warns motorists away. I have an idea.
“Stay here,” I tell Grant, stashing my phone again. “I’m going to lead him to the bridge.”
“What? He’ll catch up in no time.”
“Not if I jump.”
His eyes go wide. “You can’t—”
“I’ve bungee jumped a million times,” I say. “This is just like that. Minus ropes.”
“Important ropes!”
“I’ll be okay,” I say decisively. I’m hoping he understands the rest. The locale, the signage—it all seems like a glaring hint of what I’m supposed to do. I can hazard a guess that, as the protagonist of this story, I’ll survive the fall into the river. But I can’t promise the same for Grant, love interest or not. I’ll be damned if I let Anna showcase her new edginess by killing him off.
With the traffic beginning to move, I take my chance to dart back out onto the street in plain view of Alistair, leaving Grant behind. I dodge cars and passersby as I dash across the road and onto the closed-off bridge. Alistair’s car growls close behind.
I charge past the traffic cones until a set of concrete barricades blocks the way. I can hear Alistair speeding toward me, crunching over the cones. I don’t look back. I hurdle over the barrier to the pedestrian walkway and climb the rail, looking down into the dark.
It’s impossible to tell how far below the water is. Adrenaline shoots through me at the idea of throwing myself into the abyss. I’m about to jump when someone grabs my hand.
I whip around to see Grant, looking exceptionally pale under the streetlights and breathing hard, pulling himself up alongsideme. He straightens tentatively, staring with dread toward the water, then his eyes lock onto mine.
“Together,” he says.
I should argue, but we don’t have time. I only swallow the lump in my throat and nod. A crash behind us startles me, and I turn to see Alistair, red-faced and spitting mad as he gets out of his car, crunched where it hit the barricades. Farther down, Lesley is turning onto the empty bridge.
I turn to Grant and squeeze his hand. “Now.”
“Shit.”
And then, a single moment before Alistair can grab us, we leap.
Everything goes silent as we fall through the dark. The air rushes out of my lungs and my stomach flips, and for a moment there’s nothing but me and Grant, our hands clasped together.
Then the water hits. The frigid smack is like concrete—solid when I land, then dissolving to swallow me whole. The impact and the cold are so disorienting, I don’t know which way is up. I thrash toward what I hope is the surface, lungs in revolt. All around me is churning water and blackness, stinging my eyes and biting my skin.
