Page 93 of Pulse
“What’s going on?” Ford asks, concern dripping in his tone.
I turn to find Dahlia but then notice one thing that sends waves of panic crashing through me.
Someone is in the passenger’s seat with a bag over their head.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Troy
“Fuck!” My blood turns to ice as I race through the house. “Landry! Call Grey. Windsor Pizza delivery car just left Lincoln’s. Will be headed to the causeway. Get him on thisnow.”
He doesn’t ask questions.
“Dahlia!”
I know she’s not going to answer me.
I know she’s not here.
Dahlia
“You little fucking bitch.” Freddy’s voice is cold and detached, but decidedly evil. “Why can’t you ever fucking cooperate?Huh?”
I’m thrown back in the passenger’s seat as the car barrels down the road. The engine screams and the frame shakes. Freddy pushes it to its limit.
Tears stain my face, and snot drips into my mouth. I can’t see anything through what I think is a pillowcase tied around my head.
Each ragged breath I take causes the fabric to pull into my mouth.Stop, Dahlia. You wont be able to breathe.You need to stay alive. Keep your wits.
But the lack of air is terrifying me, mixing with my pure, unadulterated fear.
What the hell is happening?
The side of my head throbs from Freddy smashing me in the face with what I’m guessing was his fist, ricocheting my skull off the window when I dove blindly for the horn.
Thank God, I hit it loud enough for Troy to hear it.
I know he did.
I believe he did.
“You couldn’t just behave, could you?” Freddy asks from beside me. “I tried to help you, baby. I told you to take me back. I begged you not to do this.I did. I had it all planned out, and it could’ve been fine. It could’ve been great. Butyouhad to ignore the rules of the game and tell people what was happening, and they started poking around in places they didn’t need to be.”
His voice grows louder, more frantic just before his fist connects with my head again.
“Stop it!” I scream. The pillowcase’s nearly soaked and is clinging to my face. My chest heaves as I sob. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“This is all your fault. All of it. You cost me everything.Everything, dammit.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. None of it makes sense. He’s clearly unhinged.
I bring my hand to the side of my head, tapping it lightly against a warm goo near the top. A metallic odor floats through the air as my fingers touch what’s undeniably blood soaking through the pillowcase.
“What’s my fault?” I ask, the words barely audible around the fabric.The wet material’s going to suffocate me.
The car quickly turns, and I smash into the door again.
I must get myself together. I have to survive.
