Page 122 of The Catalyst

“What are you doing? Let’s go,” he presses, irritation in his voice.

“I have to put it up,” I object, but then, we hear a door slamming and my eyes jump to Oliver’s. Seems like our five minutes are up.

Without giving me a moment to figure out what to do, Oliver snatches my hand, and I can barely grab my mask before we’re running out of the room and racing down the hall.

“Stop right there!”

“Halt! Police!”

I screech as we dash down a hall, and Oliver pushes open a door at the end, but fear grips me when I see it leads into the holding cell room. We’re going to be trapped!

We aresogoing to jail for this. What the hell was Oliver thinking? We broke into a police station of all places!

Running as fast as we can through the room, I realize there is someone in the holding cell.

“Mercer? Holy shit! Run, Preacher Baby! Don’t let them catch your fine ass, or Ol’ Darrel will get a nice bite out of ‘yer!”

My eyes widen as I look over my shoulder. “Sleep it off, Darrel. I was never here!”

“So much for not knowing everyone,” Oliver cackles like a maniac as we dash like our asses are on fire, and I see the exit sign above a door on the other side of the room.

Thank God. We’re almost out of here.

Oliver pushes open the door, and the alarm sounds.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuuck!

My feet burn as we charge for the trees behind the police station, the same way we came through. When we hit the tree line, I know we’re safe.

April 17, 1815

We found it–our forever home. I knew it the second we came over the hill and saw a gigantic grove full of trees growing peaches, plums, and an assortment of different apples. Wild horses and deer roam free as if they have nothing to fear. It’s peaceful and far from any civilization known to us. Aichear thinks we should call this beautiful place “Grove Hill,” but I’m not sure the name encompasses the sheer beauty of our home. It doesn’t matter what we call it, though, because it is ours, and no one will take our home from us ever again.

Until next time,

Séamus O’Reilly

CHAPTER 47

BETH

My heart pounds as we climb into his car, and my chest heaves from how fast we ran from that place, my arms tingling from the insane workout. Turning my head, I look at Oliver, and even though he’s breathing like he just ran a marathon, a big smile pulls at his lips.

I’ve…never seen him smile like that. It’s like…he’s actually happy.

His grin is contagious, and when his impenetrable stare meets mine, a full-blow roar of enjoyment flies from my mouth. I nearly rip the hair tie from my hair with a few snagged twigs, and Oliver joins me in my fit of giggling.

“Oh, my God. We almost got caught! This thing brought my chase kink to a whole new level.”

My eyes widen as Oliver goes silent, and I slam my hand over my face. I just said that…out loud.

I’ve always gotten crazy turned on while watching the car chases in cop movies and the scenes where the final girl was running from the psycho killer in the horror movies I used to watch with Shawn. I was always curious about if it was more than just watching it. That was until Nigel and I tested it out the night that he raped me. It was one of the last moments that I didn’t fear him. I’m less scared now, but the fear is always there in the back of my mind.

“You have a chase kink?”

I thin my lips as I pull my hand away from my face. I can’t believe that actually slipped out.

“Go ahead. Make fun of me.” I roll my eyes. It won’t be any skin off my back if he laughs. My desires are valid.

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