Page 162 of Lush

Three.

I exhaled slowly, schooling my voice into something careful. “Nina?—”

“Shut up,” she snapped, pressing the gun harder against my back.

Two.

One.

The doors slid open.

“You don’t have to do this.”

Nina shook her head. “Too late.”

The cool night air rushed in from the hospital’s main entrance, but it didn’t soothe the fire burning under my skin. My pulse pounded, my instincts screaming at me to run, but before I could take a full run?—

Pain exploded at my scalp.

I gasped as Nina yanked me back by my hair, her fingers twisting at the roots, sharp and unrelenting.

“Not so fast,” she hissed, her breath hot against my ear.

She forced me across the dimly lit parking lot, dragging me toward a sleek black sedan, and I saw the dents in them.

She’d been the one that hit us.

“Get in the car.” She shoved me toward the driver’s side. “Drive.”

She slid into the passenger seat, the gun pointed directly at me.

I swallowed hard, gripping the wheel. My mind raced, searching for an opening, a way out. But she was too close. And I didn’t doubt for a second she’d pull the trigger if I so much as hesitated.

“Where?” I asked, barely a whisper.

Nina smirked.

“I’ll tell you.”

The directions were short and clipped, forcing us farther and farther from Lush. The city lights faded behind us, swallowed by the thick woods lining the road. I gripped the wheel, my mind racing.

Finally, we turned onto a gravel road, the tires crunching as we pulled up to a secluded cabin. It was old, the wood darkened with time, but something about it sent a jolt through me.

“Out.”

I crept up, eyes glued to the place, my stomach churning as we got closer to those steps.

Then I saw it—the faintly carved emblem by the door.

Ashbourne.

“Hurry up,” Nina hissed, her fingers tightening in my hair as she forced me up the steps. Her eyes flicked around, scanning the trees like she expected someone to be watching. The door creaked open, and the second I stepped inside, my breath caught.

The cabin wasn’t abandoned.

A fire crackled low in the stone fireplace, the scent of burnt wood and something faintly spiced hanging in the air. A jacket was slung over the back of the couch, boots tucked neatly by the door.

“Sit,” Nina ordered, shoving me toward a worn wooden chair in the middle of the room.

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