Page 51 of Disorder (Elite of Elmwood 2)

Every muscle in his body went rigid. There was a bit of wariness too. “If we do this, we do it my way, on my terms,” he finally said after a long moment of consideration.

We shared a look, and my brows lifted. “Is there any other way?”

With Brock, there wasn’t.

* * *

My ears still rang as I laid my head on the pillow and closed my eyes. I swore the bed rumbled like an engine underneath me.

Eventually, my mind and body must have quieted enough for me to fall asleep, somewhere between reliving the thrill of the race and Brock’s angry face. The next thing I knew, I was locked back inside Carter’s car, blindfolded and bound.Fear hit the back of my mouth, coating my tongue with the sharp tang of panic. My hands trembled against the twine tying them together.

A door squeaked open, and a spear of terror lanced through me. Seconds later, Carter’s voice pierced the roaring of fear in my head. “I warned you what would happen if you chose the wrong side.”

“No,” I screamed, my head shaking back and forth wildly. “Carter, stop.”

The blindfold ripped away from my eyes, and I stared into the twisted face of a madman.

Carter showed no remorse, no emotion as his fingers wrapped around my neck like a thick noose, tightening until air was impossible to get into my lungs. My eyes went wide as I bucked, struggling to dislodge his body. But Carter had the weight to keep me pinned to the back seat.

I thrashed, but it was useless.

I couldn’t breathe.

He was going to kill me.

No one was coming to save me.

“Firefly.”

The gentle voice nudged me out of that place of horror that trapped me, urging me out of the nightmare and into wakefulness.

Through the well of hot tears, it was Brock’s face hovering close to mine. Not Carter’s.

I swallowed a cry of genuine fear and blinked just to make sure.

“Firefly, hey. It’s me. You’re okay. Do you hear me? You’re safe. I won’t let him hurt you. Not in my house.”

“Brock?” I whispered, my voice raspy like I’d been screaming.

Had I?

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart still hammered in my chest, despite the realization that it was only a dream. Carter wasn’t here. And I wasn’t trapped in his car. I was in Brock’s bed. It was his body warm against mine, chasing away the chill of fright and helplessness.

Brock brushed his knuckle along my cheek, and I stared into his eyes. It was those eyes, the color of the ocean at night, that calmed the racing panic. His touch banished any lingering traces of Carter’s fingers wrapped around my neck.

I lifted my arms and touched his face, needing to feel that he was real. His skin was warm and comforting. I slide my hands into his hair, pulling him down against me. “Hold me,” I murmured.

His body became flush with mine. If there was one thing Brock was exceptional at, it was making me forget. I needed that now.

I needed him.

Brock didn’t protest when I guided my lips to his, not that I thought he would. In this area, Brock never denied me. I didn’t let myself think that meant anything. Brock wasn’t the kind of guy to get tangled with a girl—physically, yes but not emotionally.

Chapter Eleven

We put the beginnings of Mads’s harebrained scheme into motion Monday at school. The Elite would make it known over the next few weeks that I was one of them, I was in the inner circle of trust. All the while Carter would think I was using this newly gained trust to stab them in the back.

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