The Perfect Escape (The Perfect Escape #1) - Suzanne Park Page 0,80

breath, he dropped on top of me and yanked my wristband. By some miracle, it didn’t unsnap. He kept yank-yank-yanking to the point where my wrist was rubbed raw, possibly even sprained or broken.

The German’s face scrunched up as he pulled. “Damn it!”

This was it.

He was one yank away from defeating me, I knew it.

I’d lost.

Body tense, my eyes squeezed shut, I braced myself for defeat. That was all I could do.

SMACK!

With the weight of the German off my torso, I opened my eyes to see where he’d gone. Nate had him pinned down, barely. The German was bigger, stronger, and angrier. But Nate held his own, staying on top of his writhing opponent. Not letting go, even with all the twisting and bucking.

This was my chance. Nate and German were rumbling on the ground. Distracted. I could run for it.

I could win.

But leave Nate? He could have just run, but he cared about me enough to push off the German. Or maybe he owed me and we were even now.

Sweat trickled down the side of my face and neck. A quick swipe of my hand across my collarbone revealed that my garnet necklace was gone. I had squeezed the pendant right before Nate and I jumped across the cliff divide. Where could it have—

The German.

Did he pull it off when he grabbed my neck?

Frantically, I backtracked to the area the German had brought me down. Sifting through fallen pine needles, underbrush, on my hands and knees. Hot tears fell, forming dark brown speckles in the dirt. If I didn’t find it now, there would be no way to backtrack and find it later.

I hadn’t fully understood the term “finding a needle in a haystack” until that very moment. This was hopeless.

“Kate! He has your necklace! He keeps punching me with it.”

Ankle throbbing, I hopped toward Nate. At that point, both guys, with mussed hair and bleeding scratches on their faces, had gotten in good swings. And Nate was right. Sure enough, the German had my gold chain wrapped around his hand, like a really shitty brass knuckle. It was hard to see if the pendant was still attached with all the frantic punching movement.

Nate yelled, “Take off his wristband!” The German was still pinned down, but not for long. After spending so much time on his back, he figured out it would be easier to flip over and push up than lift Nate off him. “I’ve got his arms!”

That garnet necklace was the last thing my mom gave me. I’d worn it every day, every night since the day Raina had pulled me out of my funk and dragged me to the skating rink.

It meant everything to me. I needed it back.

Instead of pulling off the German’s wristband, I pulled on his curled fingers, forcing him to give up the necklace.

“What are you doing?” Nate screamed.

But then it was too late. I’d used all my strength to open the German’s hand. All of it. Slowly, his hand opened, and I pulled my treasure from his grip.

I was so ecstatic about my necklace retrieval that I didn’t move when he rolled to his side and yanked a final time at my wristband.

Click.

It fell to the ground. A message flashed: GAME ELIMINATION IN THIRTY SECONDS.

Nate grew weaker by the second. Soon, the German wriggled out of his hold and, in an instant, was on top of Nate.

In a choke hold, Nate strangle-whispered, “Do. Krav. Maga. Please.” The German let go of Nate’s neck and went for his wristband. Tugging it hard, like he did with me. And I knew five hard tugs and that was it.

Do Krav Maga? I never took it except for the few half-jokey defense lessons Nate had given me during our post–escape room hangout sessions. All you learn the first few months is how to kick a perp in the balls.

Ignoring my ankle injury, which happened to be in my dominant, stronger kicking leg, I pushed the