Page 144 of Twisted Collide

Yeah, something isn’t right.

I’m halfway down the corridor when my dad lifts his arm, waving me over. I head over to him. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“Dane dropped his keys, but I have to meet with someone. Would you mind giving them to him?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Big problem actually, but sure, why not.

Should be fun.Approaching Dane when he’s in a mood is right up there with getting a root canal.

I turn toward the hallway that leads to the back door of thestadium. My pace is between a fast walk and a jog, wanting to get this over with.

He’s already outside by the time I make it to the door and push it open. The cool fall air hits me in the face. I shiver, crossing my arms in front of my chest to lock in some heat.

“Dane!” I shout to get his attention. He turns over his shoulder and looks at me but doesn’t stop. What the hell is wrong with him? I pick up my pace, jogging in his direction. Once I’m beside him, he finally stops.

I lift my hand, and he takes a step back. “You dropped your keys.”

It might be dark out, but even under the canopy of a black sky, I can see his face. A face devoid of emotions.

His blue eyes look hollow, and his jaw is tight enough to snap. I search for anything else there—sadness, anger—but there’s nothing. A chill runs down my spine. Is that even possible? But the evidence is clear as day. He’s merely a body, a vessel, a soulless god.

His hand reaches out, and I meet him halfway, dropping the fob into his open palm.

I don’t like this. Something is clearly very wrong with him.

I move closer, wary and unsure, but knowing I need to confirm he’s okay despite everything. “I’m worried about you.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

I lift my hand back out and touch his arm this time, but he pushes my hand off. It feels like my hand is sizzling from the touch.

“I don’t understand what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

A gust of wind blows. Sharp and fast. A storm is rolling in.

The loose strands of my hair whip against my face, blinding me for a second before I push them away. “’Cause you’re so busy right now?”

“Actually, yes,” he growls.

He continues to walk toward his car.

I keep pace with him, walking faster than my short gait can handle, but I refuse for him to get in his car and drive away.

The closer we get, the brighter it gets. There’s a streetlight beside his car. The light flickers on and off like the bulb is about to blow.

My lids blink every time it momentarily shuts off.

Someone needs to fix that.

I catalog that in my thoughts as something I need to tell my father about, but right now, I have a bigger issue.

Like how to stop Dane and get him to talk to me. The man is a ticking time bomb, and it scares me to think of him in such a dark place.

From the corner of my eye, I notice the concrete ledge that runs along the side of the parking lot. It’s not that high up, only a step up, but it will do the trick.

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