with Hunter one last time. In my mind, I wished him a silent farewell. I hoped that somehow he’d escape. That he and Abby would have a long life together.
I saw the indecision in his blue eyes. He looked at Abby and then his head swiveled until he stared at Ben, who hadn’t moved from his awkward position on the floor. Eyes glassy, a broken doll in a pool of red.
When he looked up, I gave an almost imperceptible shake of my head. No. If he tried anything now, he’d end up just like Ben.
On the way out, I made eye contact with Tim. The force of the contempt in my stare should have cut him like a laser. He didn’t flinch. But his pulse rose, by several beats. I could sense it now.
Afraid? Of me? That didn’t make much sense. And then, he did something even more bizarre. He inclined his chin, just the barest bit. I almost thought I’d imagined it. And I had no idea what it meant.
Then I was in the corridor and in the building and walking the path that would lead me off the Montford campus and away from the people in that room for good.
“Where are they?” I said, once we were out of earshot.
At least Holland didn’t pretend not to know who I meant. “You’ll see them soon enough.”
The rain had stopped, but the air was still thick with humidity. Our walk across campus to the parking lot was surprisingly uneventful. Most of the students had retreated to warmer quarters; we only saw a couple here and there and no one paid us much attention. Why would they? I couldn’t struggle or fight; if I did, someone would die. Holland had me chained just as surely as if the steel rings bit into my wrists.
Even the video camera at the gate was easy. “Temporarily disabled,” Holland said. He didn’t talk as he led me to the parking lot, but the silence was almost worse. When he spoke, I knew what he was thinking. When he was quiet . . . that’s when my fears multiplied.
He led me to a black van, opened the passenger door, and shoved me toward the seat. “You’re driving.”
He climbed into the back before passing me the keys. After following a series of barked-out directions, I pulled up next to a vacant field. Only one other vehicle was there, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw it. Lucas’s white van.
“Pull up right next to it,” Holland snapped. I did as I was told. As we approached, the door slid open, and my doors did as well. Daniel’s face flashed in the depths of the other van, before one of Holland’s men blocked my view and pulled someone from the back.
Lucas. His feet were bound and his hands were zip tied in front of him, but otherwise he seemed to be in one piece. The man shoved him across the narrow gap into our van, where Lucas tripped and almost dove headfirst onto his uncle’s lap. He righted himself at the last second, flipping his body weight until he landed in the empty seat.
I followed Holland’s order to shut the door. I’d follow all his orders. Any. So long as my good behavior would keep Lucas safe. Within minutes, we were back on the road, the other van following closely behind.
In the rearview mirror, I could see Holland reclined next to Lucas, pressing a gun to his temple. Above the duct tape that covered his mouth, his eyes were calm. I scanned the distance between us, assessed the amount of time I could reach Lucas. I had it down to the millisecond.
In every calculation, Holland’s trigger finger was faster.
“If you make so much as a tiny detour off the route, or take one of your hands off the wheel for anything other than a turn signal, I’ll start shooting. One body part at a time,” Holland said. The edges of his words were soft, as if he were discussing his favorite restaurant.
My heart pumped faster; I willed it to slow. Every bit of energy needed to go to my brain. A way out—there had to be one.
“No matter what, you lose,” said Holland, like he was reading my mind. “How much time left now?” He glanced at the oversized silver watch on his wrist. “An hour and forty-five minutes, give or take a few? Doesn’t give us much time to get to the helicopter and fly to