Page 43 of Runaways

And then, I'll have to go to the police and tell them what happened. I hate myself a little for thinking it, but I don't want to. I don't want them to get in trouble—how fucking stupid is that? Whatever they did to me must have fucked up my head even worse than I thought.

I almost cry with relief once I reach the tree line. Adrenaline surges through me, and I pick up my pace, barely feeling the pain in my swollen ankle as I rush toward the metal barrier. Pushing it aside, I stumble through on legs like jello, losing my balance and falling again.

But before I can hit the ground, strong arms wrap around my waist, keeping me on my feet. Inhaling, I know who it is before I even look.

No.

I struggle against his hold with what little energy I have left.

"Easy," Silas says. "You need to calm down, Noah. I've got you." He tightens his hold on me. "I'm not going to let you go."

"Silas, no."

He shushes me, running his hands up and down my back, and I give up, relaxing in his hold.

"You found our lost girl."

Tate's voice causes my body to tense. I fist Silas's hoodie in my hands, still pressed against his chest, before I dare to look up.

"Hey, little lost girl," Tate says. He pulls his hood back, tousles his blue hair, and smiles.

It's the smile that sets my teeth on edge.

It's the way it matches his eyes. No wonder I'd been so easily confused before—the man in front of me looks at me like I'm the only thing he's ever wanted to look at, even though we both know he's here to kill me.

"Leave me alone," I tell him. "There are police here. I'll scream."

"If you scream, I'll stab you," he says. "How many times do you think I could stab you before the police get to you? Besides, you don't want anything bad to happen to us, do you? You saved me, remember?"

I try to push away from Silas, but I barely move. And the truth is my body is too sore and far too tired, and it feels goodright here. Tate approaches us with no sense of urgency, taking his time while never breaking eye contact. When he finally closes the space between us, he reaches for me, smoothing matted blonde hair away from my face.

"I bet you're hungry," Tate says. "Are you hungry, baby?"

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I'm fucking starving," he says. "I want one of those big ass pretzels. You want a pretzel, Noah?"

I shake my head. "No. I want to go home."

"Why?" he asks. "So your stepdad can beat the shit out of you? You want a funnel cake? You like funnel cake."

"I want a funnel cake," Silas says. "And one of those lemonades."

"What…what's happening right now?"

"We want to play a game, Noah," Tate says. "It's called 'Obey,' and I think we'll all feel a lot better about everything once it's over. Come on."

He turns, walking off toward the midway, and I watch, my expression twisted with confusion.

Silas lifts me off the ground, holding me on his hip.

"What are you doing?"

"Looks like that ankle could use a break," he says, looking up at me.

I nod. "Yeah."

Tate turns the corner, and Silas follows. I hold on to him, letting my head rest on his shoulder, and he carries me over to a picnic table, setting me down on top before sitting beside me.

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