Page 36 of Runaways

"A-about what?"

He doesn't answer, but whatever he was considering, he must make a decision because he heads outside. Music blares as we pass Brielle and Leo, who sit under the pergola while Josh and Alexis fuck around in the shallow end.

"Silas, please talk to me! Stop ignoring me!"

He scoffs. "You mean like you ignored me for an entire fucking year?"

"Excuse me!" Brielle shouts over the speakers. "Who are you?"

Silas doesn't answer either of us. He walks right up to the amps, tilting one of them upward as if inspecting it.

"Hey, don't touch those!" Brielle says, standing with her hands on her hips. "Did Charlie invite you?"

Ignoring her, Silas looks down at my sandals and then says, "You should go stand in the grass…just in case."

"What?" I ask, confused.

"All right; that's it. Where the fuck is Charlie?" Brielle asks. She grabs her phone from the side table. "What the fuck? The wifi is out. Can you call him, Leo? I don't have any signal out here."

"I don't, either," Leo says. "I'll go inside and look for him."

Picking up the amp, Silas says again, "Go stand in the grass, Noah."

"Tell me what's going on!"

"Hey! Put that down!" Brielle yells. "Those are expensive! They're very fragile!"

Silas rolls his eyes before shifting the weight of the amp onto one arm, then uses the free arm to shove me into the bushes.Before I can pull myself to my feet, the amp soars through the air and lands in the water next to Alexis and Josh.

The music stops. Sparks fly as it short circuits, and Brielle screams. The lights, the house, everything goes dark. With just a sliver of daylight remaining, I can make out Silas standing just a few feet away with his back to me. He pulls a knife from his pocket and flips it open, watching the bodies of my classmates float face down at the water's surface.

They're…

Oh, my god. They're dead.

And Silas is just watching, waiting for…what? Maybe to see if either of them moves; maybe he just wants to make sure.

My heart pounds; my vision blurs as blood pumps in my ears loudly enough that I barely register Brielle screaming anymore. And I can't move. I try, but my body refuses to cooperate.

And if I could move, where would I go? What would I do?

Tate wasn't lying. They really are here to kill every single one of us. And there's nowhere to hide.

"Si—" I start, but all that comes out is a raspy, failed attempt at his name. I swallow hard and try again. "Silas…"

It's not much better, but Silas moves, and things get a bit clearer again.

"Help!" Brielle yells, scrambling to her feet. "Help me!"

"Brielle, run!" I scream.

But she's drunk and high; the patio is wet, and her movements are sloppy. She stumbles as she turns, giving Silas plenty of time to catch up to her. Before she reaches the door, he closes his fist around her hair, pulling her backward.

Then he plunges the knife into her chest, over and over again, before pushing her back toward the pool.

She doesn't fall in—her legs give out first, and she ends up lying on her back just at the pool's edge, her body twitching. A gargling sound comes from somewhere deep in her throat as she chokes on her own blood.

"Brielle!" I cry, rushing toward her. I kneel beside her, panicking, holding my hands over the knife wounds in a pathetic attempt to stop the bleeding, but there are too many of them, and it's too much. "Help!" I scream, just as futilely as Brielle had done before.

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