Page 47 of The Wrong Drive-
I stop, trying to listen over my pounding heart. I hearsomethingon the other side. I jiggle the doorknob again. “Turner,” I shout, banging my fist on the door. “Turner, let me in.”
Nothing.
“Turner,” I scream at the top of my lungs, slamming my fists so hard they begin to ache. “Please.” Tears roll down my cheeks freely, as Gunner bays from behind me, his panic reflecting mine. I don’t know how to break in. I barrel my shoulder into the door as hard as I can, begging and pleading for the old frame to give way to my weight.
Adrenaline surges through my body as I slam against the door once more, and the wood splits—but it doesn’t give. I yell his name again, begging him to let me inside. Gunner’s panicked barks drown out the sound of anything else as he begins to jump and scratch at the door. I feel as though I’m losing touch as I kick with all my strength, my breaths heavy and desperate for oxygen. I throw my body at it one more fucking time.
And it splinters, giving way and finally letting me inside.
I fall into the darkness, landing hard against the concrete. I swallow the staggering pain and scramble to my feet, searching for Turner. Gunner darts past me, heading to the back of the barn, his feet silently moving across the concrete floors. I sprint after him, not even bothered by the sight of Adam’s jeep. I don’t care.
Ireallydon’t care.
My footsteps echo as I make it to the dimly lit area, reaching stacks of boxes and tubs, labeled with different things—all of it Turner’s. As I scan around myself, squinting in the dark, I meet his gaze.
And the barrel of a gun.
“Get out of here, Em,” he says, his voice monotone. “I unburied your truck. The roads were cleared last night. Take Gunner. Don’t make me force you.”
I step toward him, where he’s sitting in an old, dusty chair. “Don’t do this, Turner.”
He shakes his head at me, cocking the hammer. “You think you know me, but you don’t have the slightest idea of what I’ve done.”
“You killed your brother,” I throw out the assumption. “And my guess is Adam doesn’t make number two.”
His eyes alight with irritation. “No. He’s number nine. Seven other people trespassed on this place, and I did what I did.”
I nod, surprisingly less terrified than I expected myself to be. I take another step, and his hand trembles, his finger on the trigger. “If you shoot me, you’ll regret it.”
“You’re right,” he says flatly. “But moments later, I’ll be burning in hell, anyway.”
“Don’t leave Gunner alone,” I reason, my voice softening at the pain in his eyes. “We can fix this… You’re not too far gone, Turner.”
“Yes, I am,” he snaps, his eyes boring into mine. “Tommy told me before he went cold to find a way to appease the monster in me—and I found my way, killing people who came here when they shouldn’t—and now, I don’t think that’s what he meant. But it’s too late to change it.”
“Cycles can be broken,” I reason, inching closer as Gunner backs away, sitting. I reach out, and in one swift move, I take thegun from his hand. He doesn’t fight me for it, nor does he stop me from straddling him, taking a seat in his lap.
“What’re you doing, Em?” he groans. “I’m finally going to do what needs to be done, and you’re forcing me to get violent.”
I press the barrel to his temple, my heart throbbing in my head. “Tell me everything. I want to hear it all.”
He meets my gaze. “I’d rather you just pull the trigger.”
Chapter 21
Turner
There’sanger in her eyes. I know she thinks I’m weak, but that’s not true. If I was weak, I’d give in to the urge I had to kill her, and bury her body next to my brother’s. I’m finally strong enough, because of her, to do what should’ve been done a long time ago. Sometimes, it’s better to put a wounded animal out of its misery than let it live with its disability.
“I’ll pull the trigger,” Em says, her voice calm and collected. “And then I’ll take Gunner and I’ll leave this hell I was trapped in for weeks. Don’t you worry.”
My chest swells. “Good girl.”
A tear rolls down her cheek as her lower lip trembles. “But first, I want you to tell meeverything.” Her voice strains as she presses it harder into my temple, doing the job I planned to do myself—andwilldo myself. I won’t let her be the one who pulls the trigger.
But I’ll let her feel in control in this moment.
“Where do you want me to start?” I ask her, a strange calmness settling in my body.
