She ran from us, ran to the one and only place she felt safe, and someone took her. There is no other explanation for why her things were scattered among the shrubbery that lines the base of the student housing.
While Hudson and Darcy collected what they could find of Emery’s things, I spoke with the roommate, Oakley. The poor girl was pretty shaken up at the idea of her friend being taken, but once I gave her my number and she sent me a text message so that I had hers, she agreed to go back to their shared dorm and wait for me to update her.
After bluntly informing us that Emery had been taken and then showing us the app on his phone that was tracking her location, Xavier disappeared back toward our cars. By the time I heard him calling my name, Oakley had retreated back into the building, and only a handful of intoxicated students had seen us in our less-than-professional attire loitering outside student housing. Xavier had retrieved a black duffel bag from his car and was gesturing for all of us to get in my car.
Over thirty minutes later, and we’re still following the blinking blue dot on his phone south on the highway while he has been tapping away at that second phone. Whatever the hell he is doing on that phone is clearly tied to the past he refuses to disclose any information about.
When this is all fucking over, I’m not going to let him get away with any more of his bullshit cryptic responses when I ask about it. And about any of the other ways he is keeping tabs on Emery. Him having access to her all this time, and not sharing that information with the rest of us, is selfish. Having this type ofinformation about her would have made the last three weeks so much more bearable.
“Take this exit,” Xavier instructs, finally lowering the second phone.
I frown as the sign for the next exit comes into view. Southside? Who does she know from there? Taking the exit ramp, I pull off the highway, following the curve and slowing down as we return to residential roads. The farther in we venture, the darker the streets get, with fewer streetlights, more mass housing, and every other street corner hosting a handful of people, all of whom watch as my pristinely kept black SUV rolls past them.
They probably think we are a new drug-dealing crew moving into town. Fantastic. I’ll be lucky to get out of the area without any of my tires slashed.
“Should we be calling the cops?” Darcy asks from the back seat.
I glance in the rearview mirror at him and Hudson, both of whom have been quiet the entire trip, and find them staring out their respective windows.
“No,” Xavier replies, voice lower than normal. “Take the next left.”
Without question, I take the next left, not bothering with the blinker. No need to advertise where we’re going.
The street leads us almost into complete darkness. There are no streetlights, and to say that the houses look run-down would be generous. My heart sinks when Xavier points to a house that is definitely condemned, given all the boarded-up windows and the piece of yellow paper stuck to the front door. A dark-colored sedan, that looks like it might have been new at the turn of the last century, sits in the cracked driveway that I pull up in front of, duct tape holding the bumper in place.
Emery is in there?
Like someone is turning up the volume on my nervous system, I can both hear and feel my heart beating heavily in my chest as I stare at the darkened, smashed-out windows. There is the tiniest bit of light filtering through the boards on the window on the far left, and it finally occurs to me that if we aren’t calling the police to come and handle this situation, then we must be doing it ourselves.
Swallowing, I shift in my seat and turn to face Xavier, whose thumbs are once again flying over the screen of the mystery phone. “Going to fill us in on what happens now?”
He taps away for a few more seconds before locking the phone and placing it face down on the leather seat between his thighs. Xavier turns in his seat to look at me and then the other two. “You need to choose. Are you staying in the car or coming in?”
Unable to help myself, I glance over his shoulder at the house. Am I staying in the car? Or what, exactly? Busting down the dilapidated door and facing an unknown number of people with an unknown number of weapons?
The slide and kick of a weapon being checked snaps my attention to the fucking pistol that has somehow appeared in Xavier’s hands. He screws on a silencer, then leans forward in his seat and stuffs it into the back of his club pants, fixing his white button-up to conceal the weapon.
Hysterical laughter threatens.
What the fuck is even going on right now? Who is this man? How the fuck did we get here?
He looks right at me and offers me the butt of a second pistol, silencer already attached. “Last chance. Are you in or out?”
I feel like the question has more weight to it than just this moment’s worth. And as much as this situation has spiraled completely out of my control, there is absolutely no way I am being left in the car. If there is any chance that Emery is in thatbuilding, I’m going in, regardless of what waits for us on the other side.
“I’m in.” I take the gun from him, the textured grip heavy but not unfamiliar in my hand, and cut the engine.
“What about us?” Darcy demands from the back seat. “We aren’t staying in the car.”
Xavier looks back between the seats assessingly, then reaches into his bag and pulls out a baton-looking stick and hands it to Darcy.
Darcy takes it, confusion radiating from him. “What–”
“Press the button.”
Darcy finds the button and presses it. Violent blue light fills the car as electricity zaps around the tip of the taser for several seconds.
The silence in the car is deafening.
