Page 198 of The Darkest Chase

It’s hope.

My fingers clutch the phone until they burn.

“My instincts say we’re damned lucky Talia Grey is a fucking genius,” I say breathlessly. “Load up. We’ll cut them off at Mariposa Cove.”

23

SHOT IN THE DARK (TALIA)

Minutes Earlier

Idon’t think I’m dead.

But everything is black.

Pitch-black.

So black that if I couldn’t feel my eyelids moving, I wouldn’t know my eyes were open at all. This is what death must feel like, this lightless darkness that swallows everything.

But if I’m dead, I don’t think my head would hurt so much.

I don’t think it would rattle my bones every time I’m jolted around.

My arms and legs definitely wouldn’t be this sore.

Plus, I don’t think being dead involves getting locked in the trunk of someone’s car.

I can hear the engine, the shift in tone as it changes speed, the whizzing of tires over asphalt.

There’s a faint whiff of gasoline and oil, too, that subtle hint that clings to even the cleanest car.

I think there’s carpet under me.

When the momentum throws me around, I touch round things that feel like wheel caps. My arms and legs are tied behind my back.

Nope, I’m not dead.

But if Xavier Arrendell has me tied up in his trunk, that’s going to change pretty fast.

Okay.

Don’t panic.

If I panic, I’ll just trigger an asthma attack, and passing out earlier killed any chance I had to run. If I get a second chance, I can’t miss it.

I close my eyes—not that it makes much difference—and focus on counting. Measuring my breaths. Controlling my fear.

It’s more than just fending off an attack at this point.

It’s a calming ritual. It's—

I freeze as my fingertips brush something against my back.

Something with a textured weave, something that feels like—

The nylon strap of my bag?

Oh.

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