Page 71 of Ride the Sky
She flaps a hand. “Couch, guest room, front porch, middle of the street, I don’t give a shit.”
I watch her inch down the hallway and disappear into her bedroom, slamming the door so hard the walls rattle. Point taken. Help not wanted, leave her the fuck alone.
I spend the rest of the night cleaning up, unpacking and texting my brothers. I claim the guest bedroom across the hall from Fallon’s.
After a second thought, I grab a pillow and a blanket and head back into the hallway.
Where I sleep outside Fallon’s bedroom door.
Irun. Twigs crunch. Moonlight illuminates my path. I rip open the door to the cabin. Dakota’s tied to a chair. A gag around her mouth. Her frantic eyes meet mine.
“No,” I gasp, rushing for her, only Aiden’s there, blocking my path. Knife in hand. Eerily calm. Evil.
I stand there, half-frozen, fists clenched. “Let her go.”
Aiden lifts the knife. Pain.
I look down.
Blood.
All over my stomach.
Bile rises in my throat. A coppery tang fills my nostrils.
I look back at the chair. Dakota’s gone.
“Where is she?” I scream. “Where’s my sister?”
Aiden grows. Tall. Different.
Disappears.
I glance down at my boots. Water soaks the soles. I try to run, but I’m sinking. Inch by inch. My legs don’t work. Cold. The sound of my own labored breathing. I try to scream, but my lungs won’t let me gulp air. Water, so much water.
And then a hand closes around my ankle.
From below, something—someone—slowly pulls me down.
I jolt up in bed, gasping. The scream lodged in my throat.
“Fuck me,” I murmur, squeezing my eyes shut against the image of Aiden, the pain in my leg. Sweat drips down my brow, and I shake in the cool night air.
This dream was different. Every nightmare has always been me, Dakota, and Aiden. Now, there’s someone else.
Now, it feels less like a nightmare and more like an omen.
With a groan, I lift on my elbow and check my phone. 3:02 a.m. Another Instagram message.
Stay away from the rodeo.
A soft glow illuminates the room as I stare at my screen. “Who the hell are you?”
It’s a warning. But about what? From the beginning, my accident has felt off. Something in my gut tells me it wasn’t a migraine. But then, what the hell happened?
Regret sweeps through me.Me.I’m what happened. I didn’t listen to Vic. I thought my nine lives would hold. And I fucked it all up.
“Stupid,” I mutter, wiping sweat from my brow.
