skin and sending debris from the pickup high into the air.
It took Rebecca a second to figure out what had happened, but Cait was already tugging at her arm, urging her to run.
The fire had finally reached the truck’s gas tank, and it had detonated like a bomb.
They could only hope that it had taken Adam with it.
They took off through the brush, darting between trees, stumbling over rocks, brambles snagging into flesh, sand slipping underfoot, the only sound that of their hot breath in their throats, the air filled with black acrid smoke, never daring to look back.
Adam’s hair was singed from the heat of the explosion and his lips were blistered and he could feel the melted fibers from his shirt clinging to his skin but he didn’t feel the pain. He felt nothing now but pure, beautiful rage, and it flowed through his veins like ice water.
He watched the two women run.
He wouldn’t rush. He knew they wouldn’t get far.
There was no plan. There was only the pounding of their hearts and the rush of blood and the feverish will to survive.
He followed them into the brush, his bad leg dragging in the dirt. He still couldn’t believe that bitch had stabbed him.
He’d make her pay. He’d make them both pay. He was a soldier. He was a warrior. He would march and fight until the battle was won.
They were fifty feet ahead of him now, but they were injured, too, and the pain was starting to catch up with them. He couldn’t feel his own pain. There was a power surging through his veins that made him feel invincible. He gripped the gun harder. He saw Cait stumble and fall, then the other one pulling her up and pushing her on.
He aimed the gun and stared through the sight. There she was, her pretty little face smeared with blood and dirt, her pretty little mouth twisted in pain.
He put the gun down. He was too far away. He wanted to look straight in her eyes when he pulled the trigger. He wanted her to feel how powerful he was, and how merciless.
Cait turned around and saw a flash of movement through the trees below.
He was coming for them.
They were climbing, knees and hands scraping against jagged rocks. There were places to hide up there, craggy inlets to tuck themselves behind, and they would be able to see him coming. They needed an advantage. This was the only one she could think of.
“There,” she said, nodding toward a gash in the rock above.
They kept climbing.
He watched them climb and smiled to himself. Stupid, stupid girls. Didn’t they know there was no escape?
They reached the bottom of the caprock. It was too steep for them to go any farther.
Rebecca looked at Cait. “We’re trapped.”
He took his time. He could see them watching him. He pulled out the gun and aimed toward them. Saw them flinch.
Rebecca pressed her back against the rock. The air smelled like burnt rubber and gasoline. “What are we going to do?”
Cait shook her head. “I don’t know.” She had led them up there. It was her fault. She had to come up with a plan. He was getting closer.
Step, drag. Step, drag.
She could see his face, and the outline of a smile playing across his lips. Who was he? She had thought he was just the guy who lived next door. Sweet. Harmless. But no. He was a monster.
She looked over at Rebecca, who was clinging to the rock, one hand on her stomach, lips moving silently.
Seven hours ago, she’d been a stranger, but she’d risked her life to save Cait.
Cait couldn’t let her die. Not here. Not like this.
There was no plan.
Sometimes, though, plans were unnecessary.
Sometimes you just had to act.
She turned toward Rebecca. “Whatever happens, run.”
Cait hurtled down the slope, picking up speed as she went. She pictured herself as a bullet slicing through the air, impenetrable and unstoppable.
She was twenty feet away when he lifted the gun.
Ten when she saw his finger twitch.
She waited for the crack of gunshot, though she knew she’d be dead before she registered the sound.
She waited for hot metal to enter her chest or her skull or her abdomen, tearing through flesh and cartilage and bone.
Her eyes locked on his.
She saw his finger squeeze the trigger.
She waited for oblivion.
The bullet grazed her left temple. She felt its whispered promise as it passed.
She heard him cock the gun.
She launched herself at his body, the air whistling past