Page 54 of Under Fyre

He’s here because of me.

Hefound me.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Charlotte

Ihear Fyre coming minutes before his truck skids to a halt in front of the cabin. I’m on my feet in an instant, but Arrow reaches the door ahead of me, already barking her head off.

What the fuck is going on?

Fyre didn’t lock me in. I think he left in such a rush, he didn’t realize what he’d done. But where was I going to go?

I know he didn’t mean to hurt me—although tell my aching head that. I took some painkillers, but they didn’t seem to help. I’ve just taken some more, and was halfway through my glass of wine when I heard Fyre’s truck.

“Charlotte!”

Fyre’s voice sends a jolt of panic right through my bones. He rips open the door, nearly slamming it into Arrow before she can dance back.

He’s pale. His hair wild.

“What—”

“Get in the fucking truck.” He grabs Arrow’s collar through her thick fur, tosses me a coat from the rack beside the door, and hauls us both through the front door.

I shake myself loose. “What is going on?”

“In. The. Truck.” Fyre stabs a finger urgently toward the car, then forces my fingers around Arrow’s collar. “Now!”

I crunch and slide over the snow in sneakers not built to handle this kind of terrain. Arrow leaps into the front, putting her butt down beside the shift stick and watching me with big, radiant eyes as I climb up beside her.

She must think this is a grand adventure.

I’m fucking terrified, especially because he won’t tell me what’s going on.

I glance back.

Fyre is locking up the cabin, his laptop under his arm. Beneath me, the truck rumbles as it waits for him to return. Unbidden, my eyes move past Arrow to where a bunch of keys dangle from the ignition.

I can run. All I need to do is slide into the driver’s seat, release the handbrake, and stomp on the gas pedal.

I look back again, meeting Arrow’s calm brown eyes en route.

“You’ll stop me, won’t you?” I whisper, glaring at her.

The edges of her mouth curl up like she’s smiling, and then she turns to look through the back window at Fyre.

“Snitches get stitches.”

Arrow turns back to me, stares at me a second, and then barks.

I stiffen in my seat, locking eyes with Fyre as he turns to look at the noise. Then he’s running for the car.

“Fucking knew it.” I throw Arrow a withering stare before slumping in my seat. Fyre slides into the driver’s seat and hands me his laptop.

I can blame the dog as much as I want, but I last drove stick in tenth grade. I’d probably have put the damn thing in reverse and driven over Fyre instead of escaping.

Fyre slams the car into gear and races down what I assume is the road out of here.

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