Zeke (The Boundarylands #6) - Callie Rhodes Page 0,1

brothers just to end up a broken husk of a woman chained some alpha's bed, that was for damn sure.

Some of that certainty faded as a warning chime sounded, and the fuel indicator lit up on her dash.

Fuck.

She had known she was running low, but hadn't realized how low until now. It hadn't been her prime concern while she was dodging bullets, and it wasn't as if she could pause in the middle of car chase to top off the tank.

What the hell was she going to do?

Darcy had no idea—and she only had about fifteen miles to figure it out before the well ran dry.

She balled her hands into fists and hammered the steering wheel, cursing every shot of tequila and top-shelf vodka that had led her to thinking it was a good idea to go home with Scott fucking Baron just twenty-four hours ago.

Unsurprisingly, her little fit of anger didn't help matters.

Especially when she glanced into the rearview mirror to see that the Barons had doused their headlights and were slowly rolling over the boundary line.

Oh shit.

She hadn't expected that. Darcy knew the Barons would never give up hunting the woman who'd killed their brother, but, for some reason, she hadn't expected this. Ignoring the Treaties was tantamount to a suicide mission.

At worst, she'd thought they might call for backup, and there'd be a blockade waiting for her at the other end of the Central Road. Or maybe they'd ditch the cop cars and come looking for her in civilian clothes.

But no.

Apparently, they weren't willing to wait for their vengeance.

Darcy's mind raced as she tried to think of a new plan. Anything would be better than giving up, flinging herself at their feet, and begging for mercy.

But what other option did she have?

She was stuck—racing deeper into the Boundarylands with every passing second, surrounded by nothing but dense forest and wild alphas, with a couple of bloodthirsty brothers on her tail.

She was well and truly fucked.

Her only hope now was that all her tires would pop at once, and she'd die in a fiery crash rather than a bullet to the head.

Wait.

Honestly, that wasn't a bad idea.

Not the dying part, of course—but the Barons didn't have to know that. A crashed car, smoke, and fire—it just might provide the distraction she needed.

Hell, at this point, Darcy figured it was the only chance she was going to get.

She waited for the next turn in the road, and when the police cruisers had disappeared momentarily from the rearview mirror, she grabbed her heavy purse, wedged it down on the accelerator, and cracked open the door. After whispering a little prayer, she threw herself out the door before she could chicken out.

The air left Darcy's lungs as she hit the ground, loose scree tearing into her bare arms and ripping her clothes. Somehow she managed to stay tucked tight as she rolled, letting the movement absorb the impact. She came to a stop as the sound of twisting metal filled the air.

Darcy shielded her eyes with her arms as she lifted her head…but nothing happened. No fireball, no flames—just the remains of her little car wrapped around the trunk of a towering redwood.

Well, shit. Maybe cars only exploded in movies.

Darcy didn't have time to wallow in disappointment. She pushed herself up to her feet and hobbled into the woods, barely making it out of sight as the flashing lights careened around the turn and came to an abrupt stop.

Moving as quietly as she could, Darcy sank to her knees on the loamy forest floor behind some dense shrubs, wincing at a sharp stab of pain in her hips. It seemed she'd taken more damage in that fall than she first realized.

"What the fuck is this?" The sound of Robert Baron's voice sent shivers down Darcy's spine as he stepped out of his car.

"Keep your damn voice down," his brother David cautioned. "Do you want one of those things to hear you?"

Robert frowned. Being the oldest of three brothers, he didn't like being told what to do…but being the dumbest meant he had gotten used to it.

"Like they didn't hear the crash," he muttered. "You think she's inside?"

"How the fuck should I know?" David said. "Go look."

Robert shot his brother a dark look before unholstering his pistol. "Fine. But if that bitch is in there, I'm ending this now."

Darcy shuddered at the sight of Robert’s departmental-issued Glock…the same kind of gun she'd used to kill Scott.

She had to get away from here.

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