Page 120 of Unbroken

Hand-in-hand, we headed out the back door, the heavy metal slamming shut behind us. Devon shot off a quick text to Marie, letting her know she could get started as soon as she could. It wasn’t a second later that she responded.

Marie: On it. I’ll get started tonight.

The large steel door on the other side of the warehouse was open, and inside, Jason continued sorting donations. He waved and told us to come back whenever we wanted.

“I feel bad,” I whispered to Devon as he led us around the building.

“Why?”

“He was so nice, letting us use one of the rooms after hours, and making all those accommodations, and we just ended up fucking.”

Devon shook his head and threw his arm over my shoulder. “Don’t feel bad. I’ve known Jason for a long time—he’s done much crazier shit.”

“Whatever you say.” He kissed the top of my head and opened the car door, gesturing for me to hop onto the seat.

I couldn’t stop smiling when he shut the door and began walking around the front of the car.

But before Devon could get to the driver’s side door, Jason came jogging around the building. I couldn’t hear him from inside, but Devon stopped in his tracks and looked from Jason to me.

He raised his index finger, telling me that he’d be just a minute and met Jason at the hood of the car.

Tugging my new phone out of my bag, I began to read the few missed texts on the screen. Several from the group chat I’dbeen added back to which included everyone, and a few from our girls only chat as well.

I was reading something about Ivy’s new assistant volleyball coach she was trying to train, when all of the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Chills, intense and swift, swept over my arms and down my legs.

Something wasn’t right. I could feel it in my gut. Every single one of my instincts was on high alert. People don’t often talk about the third option; when something’s wrong and in the face of danger, it’s not just fight or flight. Freeze was a solid option many people unconsciously chose.

It was the option I chose at that moment.

Holding my breath, I glanced in the rearview mirror but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary—a dark back seat, nothing more.

Trying to identify what had set me on edge, I silently willed Devon to look in my direction. To just peek into the car and see me. I willed my pounding heart to quiet.

Then I heard it. A low, muffled cry from farther back in the car. And I was pushing out of the door in the next second. My flight response finally took over and propelled me into the night air.

I stumbled and barely caught myself before falling to my knees on the hard asphalt. Devon was there in a second, and when he reached for me, I realized I was shaking.

“What the hell, Blake? What’s going on?”

I swallowed and found my voice, letting him pull me up. Jason was a few feet away, but I only caught a glimpse of him before I looked back to Devon. “There’s someone in the car.”

His face hardened—soft, caring eyes growing serious, and his jaw tensing. Faint smile lines around his eyes and mouth disappearing in an instant. He turned and surveyed the car.

“Help me,” he told Jason, who nodded when he’d finally broken free of his shock. Devon motioned toward the front of theSUV, where Jason began searching for something out of the ordinary.

Devon glanced in the rear windows and slowly walked to the back of the car. Several feet away, I watched everything. I waited to see movement from one of the windows or a flash of something unexpected.

But nothing happened. Finally, when the two men had inspected the outside of the car to their satisfaction, they stood in front of the trunk. A silent conversation passed between them, and they both stayed several feet back as Devon clicked a button on his keys.

I held my breath and kept my phone poised in my shaking hand, prepared to call the cops in less than a second if needed. It felt like an eternity for the trunk to open. A familiar dinging coming from inside the car and the dim lights turning on to illuminate the interior.

The entire time the door ascended, I prayed. Not to anyone in particular, but to anyone who would listen. I would have rather been crazy. I would have rather it had all been in my head. I would have rather the small, whimpered cry not been real.

But I wasn’t that lucky.

FIFTY-FOUR

Blakely

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