Page 45 of Bound to a Killer
There’s a flash of hesitation before my fingers curl around the knife in my pocket, but the Hulk body double is a blink away from reaching us.
My chest aches, lungs burning from the sprint.
No time to stall. With only a split second left, I push forward, the car just a hair away.
My arm stretches out, and I jostle the door open, scrambling inside before yanking it shut and flicking the locks on.
A fist slams into the windshield as he shouts obscenities through the glass, but I don’t waste time as I turn on the engine.
Antonio’s voice is muffled in the distance. I ignore it, shifting into reverse and slamming the gas pedal, peeling away from the pounding on my door.
I cast another glance at Tanner, still stuck in a headlock, teeth bared as he fights to get loose.
Betrayal sears through my chest as I back out, steering hard to make my escape. If it weren’t for Frankie and Aria, I would’ve stayed. Antonio knows their location; I have to go to them.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I slam my fist against the wheel.
I’m turning my back on a lifelong partner and childhood friend.
After I fucking dragged him into this. He trusted me. Stood by me until the very end. And now I’m leaving him behind like a goddamn coward.
Bile rises in my throat, but I swallow it down.
It’ll be okay.
Tanner’s not a kid. He can handle himself.
But Frankie…Shit. I can’t leave her; he has to understand that.
I swear to myself that I’ll come back to him, but if I don’t make it to the cabin in time, my sisterandAria will be at risk. I won’t let that happen.
I glance into the rearview mirror one last time before clearing the metal gate, watching them scramble like ants in the distance. They’ll use Tanner against me as leverage. But that’s okay. It means they’ll keep him alive.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” I whisper, my throat raw.
I’ll come back for you. I promise.
Right now, Aria and Frankie need me more.
14
ARIA
My wrists sting from the ropes, the coarse fibers digging into my skin and cutting off circulation. I can’t settle my heart. Every inch of my body still feels flushed from a few moments ago.
I pull my lip between my teeth, a shiver coursing down my spine as I grapple with the awful truth of how much I wanted that kiss. How much I enjoyed it. The pit of my stomach hollows, and a quiet voice creeps into my head.
I’m defective.
Now I’m sure of it.
How else can I explain the absurdity of me being the one to reach out to him? Of practically begging him to stay? Those shameful questions barely scratch the surface of turmoil plaguing my thoughts. I’m muddled with uncertainty. Emotions clash in a vicious fight, each side pulling me in opposite directions like a messed-up game of tug-of-war, the pressure threatening to tear me apart.
Pushing past my discomfort, I steal a glance at the girl still hovering in the doorway. As expected, she’s staring back, hereyes like icicles, sharp and accusing, like I’m the reason for her brother’s downfall.
