Page 111 of Runaways

"That's not going to work on me," he says as he strokes my hair.

"Got it," Silas says, opening the cabinet behind the bookcase.

And there they are. I don't know anything about guns, but there are at least ten different weapons, ranging from small handguns to rifles with scopes on them.

Tate stands and walks toward them, looking in as if admiring them for a minute before laying a blanket out on the floor in front of him. "We'll wrap them in this and take them out to the car," he says.

"No," I say. "She loves that blanket. Her daughter made it for her, and she died a few years ago. She'll notice if that's gone—trust me."

"Go get a couple of towels from the bathroom, then," Tate says, stuffing two of the smaller guns into the waistband of his jeans before Silas does the same. "You can walk."

I do as he asks, my heart pounding as I walk to the bathroom and return with a couple of towels from the linen closet.

"I have a bad feeling," I say as I lay them out on the floor.

"Yeah? Well, I am a bad feeling," Tate says. "Get over it."

"You'll be okay, Noah," Silas says. "I just checked the tracker. She hasn't left that house yet."

"And if she comes home, I'll just kill her," Tate says coldly. "Help us carry these to the car."

I sigh, grabbing one of the rolled-up towels, and follow them out the back door. I lock it behind me, and then we walk around the backside of the garage and through a small wooded area to where a grey sedan waits in a side alley.

"You know where we can find ammo in this shithole, Noah?" Tate asks.

"Um, I'm pretty sure they sell it at the drug store."

Tate laughs. "Of course, they do. Did you hear that, Silas? They sell ammo at the drug store."

"Yeah, I heard."

Silas opens the truck, and I dump the guns inside, relieved to have them out of my hands. "Now what?" I ask.

"Now, we're leaving," Tate says, snatching the keys from Silas. He moves to the driver's side of the car, shoulder checking me as he passes. He doesn't look at me and climbs into the vehicle, starting the engine.

"Well…where are you going?" I ask Silas.

I feel that tightening sensation in my chest again. They're leaving? What does he mean by leaving? Like…forever?

"We're staying at a motel a few blocks away," Silas says. "We're going to take the guns back there—that's all, okay?"

I nod, and he leans in, kissing my lips.

"I won't leave without telling you," he says.

Which is different thanI won't leave you.All I can do is nod.

Tate doesn't want me. He was so good to me this morning, and he still doesn't want me. He's going to kill me or leave me again, and I'm not sure which is worse.

I cross my arms in front of my body, attempting to make myself smaller somehow.

Silas must mistake it for cold—and itiscold—because he runs his hands up and down my upper arms, as if trying to warm me, and then holds me against his chest.

"I love you, baby," he says. "You can text me, okay?"

"Okay."

But I'm pretty sure he and Tate share a phone. I don't think I will.

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