Page 147 of Moth to a Flame

“You had it fucking coming.” From the corner of my eye, I see Lester rising to his feet, andno. No.

This isn’t right, how he’s loosening his grip on my nail. He won’t throw my breadcrumb inside the van. He won’t.

“Don’t leave me here, you idiot,” I blurt out. “I have to pee.”

Rage takes over his face. “Hold it in, you big, ugly baby. Until we’re far away from New York.” A pause. He snarls at me. “I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

“Can’t. Hold. It.” That’s not completely a lie. I really do have to go.

I also have to get him riled up, so he’ll do something that angry people do, like hurl my nail out instead of dropping it here.

“I’ll pee my pants.”

A sick, satisfied smirk stretches his lips. Humiliating me does that to him. That satisfaction is going to be short-lived.

“Okay, dickless. You’re asking for the van to reek of pee all the way to fuck knows where.”

Red-faced and scowling, he slams a hand on the van. “Alaska! Alaska, you dumb bitch! Can’t you tell we’re headed west?”

Got you, asshole.

A surge of adrenaline shoots through me. “First, no, I couldn’t, since I’ve been tied up while you were driving and sleeping and whatever.”

I don’t even notice the pain in my fingers or my need to pee. That’s how committed I am to figure out where we’re going.

“Second—”

“I napped for an hour.” The vein in his neck is about to pop.

Sadly, it stays intact.

What happens instead fills my heart with such intense relief that I bite my lip from screaming with joy.

In a feat of rage, he launches my fingernail out of the car and onto the road.

“You stupid, whiny bitch.” Spittle hits my face as he bends to haul me out of the van.

It disgusts me to my very core, having my stomach pressed to his shoulder. My nose to his back. His arm is looped on the backs of my thighs, and it makes my skin crawl.

But being out here, stalling, means Landon will have a better chance of finding me.

Plus, I really,reallyhave to pee.

Lester has left the car running. The radio is on, and as we’re rounding the van to the side of the road, I hear the low murmurs over the radio.

They’re talking about me.

“…famous horror author, Cooper Everglow’s daughter, Regan Everglow, was kidnapped from her home last night.”

Last night. And Lester has slept one hour, maybe even two. He could be lying. It could’ve been more.

As repulsed and scared as I am by his touch, I’m extremely relieved. We couldn’t have gotten very far. Right?

“…the search for her has been extended outside the state of New York. No statement has been made by her father yet, as he and his family are a part of the search party. Many other volunteers are out there looking for her…”

Dad…

I choke back a sob.

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