Page 136 of Broken Pact

I blink rapidly, trying to clear my sight, and that’s when I see Grant’s feet appear at the top of the stairs. Fear blooms behind my ribs, this six-foot-tall weed of despair that threatens to crush me under its weight.

I force myself to get up, to keep moving. To ignore the man stumbling down the stairs. To shut everything else out except for this one thing: getting out of the house.

My hands shake as I fumble with the lock. “Come on, come on, come on.” Finally, the lock clicks and I wrench the door open. Cool night air hits my face as I stumble outside onto the porch.

The night air is brisk against my flushed skin as I leap off the porch, my feet hitting the mulch as I cut through the lawn. Moonlight spills across the manicured yard, casting eerie shadows that dance and flicker with my frenzied movements.

I don’t dare look back, terrified of what I might see. Grant’s enraged shouts echo behind me, spurring me forward. I take off running down the long driveway, my arms pumping at my sides and my breath coming in sharp gasps. The stars glitter overhead in the inky black sky, the only witnesses to my desperate flight. The scent of honeysuckle and fresh-cut grass fills my nose.

I glance toward the left, eyeing the Henderson’s’ porch lights about a mile down the road. It’s definitely past midnight—maybe even later. Nana Jo’s neighbors are notoriously hard of hearing, so that might be a problem.

Sweat trickles down my back, the cool night air doing little to soothe my overheated skin. Grant's furious bellows fade into the distance behind me, but I don't dare slow my pace. And I don’t look back. I made that mistake once—I’m not going to do it again. Fear propels me forward, an icy hand wrapped around my thundering heart.

The rumble of a motorcycle engine cuts through the still night air, the unmistakable growl growing louder with each passing second. Hope surges through my veins, a dizzying rush of relief and desperation. My plan changes in an instant.

My sneakers slap against the asphalt as I run down the middle of the street, chasing the sound of the approaching motorcycle like it’s my lifeline. The yellow lines blur beneath my feet, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood drips from my wounded hand and wrist, leaving a trail behind me.

I can feel Grant’s presence behind me, his heavy footsteps pounding against the pavement echoing around me.

The single headlight appears in the distance, a glowing orb cutting through the darkness like a beacon of hope. My heart leaps into my throat as I wave my arms frantically over my head, ignoring the way movement tugs at my cuts.

"Help!" I scream, my voice raw and desperate. "Please help me!"

The motorcycle grows larger as it speeds toward me, the roar of the engine drowning out my ragged breaths and Grant’s furious shouts behind me. I squint against the blinding headlight, trying to make out the rider, but it’s impossible.

The motorcycle screeches to a stop twenty feet in front of me, the rider already dismounting before the bike has fully settled. He pulls off his helmet and tosses it aside, running full speed toward me.

“Coraline!” The familiar deep voice cuts through the night, and my knees nearly give out. I’d know that voice anywhere.

“Jasper,” I half-sob, running as fast as I can toward him.

He meets me in the middle, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me against his chest. I wrap my legs around his waist and bury my face in his neck, breathing in his familiar ocean scent.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs, one hand cradling the back of my head.

I wrench my head back and look at him. “Oh my god, Jasper. It’s Grant! He just showed up at my house—and Pudding.” My face crumples, my sinuses stinging and my eyes filling with tears. “I-I don’t know where Pudding is. There was this woman who just walked in, and she?—”

A gunshot rings out, and Jasper spins me around, putting me on my feet and shifting me behind him in one swift movement.

“That’s your only warning, Reaper. I fucking told you what would happen if you didn’t leave. So this is on you.” Grant emerges from the shadows, his silhouette illuminated in the single beam of light. Like a villain straight out of a low-budget horror film.

Jasper’s body goes rigid in front of me, every muscle coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. He raises both hands slowly, palms out.

“Drop the gun, Lawson. It’s over.” His voice is like steel, unwavering and commanding.

Grant laughs, an ugly sound devoid of any humor. The gun glints dangerously in his hand as he takes a step closer. "You don't get it, do you? Coraline belongs to me. She always has."

As I press my body against Jasper's back, my fingers brushing against something cold and unyielding. My heart races as I realize it's the handle of his gun, tucked securely into the waistband of his pants. I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm in this tense situation.

An idea sparks to life. A dangerous but maybe life-saving idea.

“Put the gun down, Lawson, and we’ll both walk away from this.”

Grant laughs, this caustic sound that seems to echo around us. “Nah, man. Only one of us is walking away, and it’s not going to be you.”

I inch my fingers under the back of Jasper’s shirt, feeling for the handle of his gun. My heart pounds in my throat as I wrap my hand around the cool metal, praying Jasper’s body and the darkness of the night shield my movements.

“She’s mine, Reaper. I won’t let you take her from me again.” Grant’s voice rises, his words laced with desperation and madness. “I won’t let anyone take her again. Not even herself.”

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