Page 118 of Marks of Rebellion
"Should I ask how you're able to do this?"
"I'm a car thief in real life."
"Really?"
He snorts. "Nope. But your face was priceless when I said that. I learned in the Marines. One of my buddies taught us when we were bored."
"Was he a car thief?"
"Quite possible he did some joyriding in his teens."
"So, where are we going?"
"I don't know, but we can't stay there. We need to get away from the chaos. That crack was so big, I can only imagine it'll draw news reporters."
"I've never seen anything like this...this is..." My gut drops. My eyes meet with ones that are pure evil. "Oh God."
"What is it?"
"Go!" I slide down in my seat as far as I can, but it's pointless. He's seen me, and there is no hiding.
"What's wrong?"
"Go! Torres!" I scream again and stay down.
"Where?"
"The black SUV."
Hunter drives over the curb and accelerates the vehicle. The road is uneven in places from the earthquake.
"Put your seat belt on!" he yells. "They're following us."
I buckle it, and the truck lifts in the air, then smashes down on the ground.
"How do they know we are here?" I ask.
"I don't know."
I peek at the side mirror and see Torres's vehicle fly in the air, as ours did. They get closer.
There are cars in front of us and Hunter maneuvers around them.
"Get my gun out of my bag."
I reach for the bag he threw in the back seat, and another vehicle comes straight at us and slams into Hunter's side of the truck. His head hits the steering wheel, and we spin out. Hunter's side slides against the concrete wall, and the scraping of metal fills my ears.
When we stop, I release my seat belt and try to wake Hunter up. He's bleeding everywhere and not responding.
"Wake up," I scream, but he doesn't.
My door is yanked open, and one of Torres's men roughly grabs me and rips me out of the truck.
I try to fight him off but can't. "Hunter! Wake up," I scream as he drags me away.
The man shoves me in the back of the vehicle and holds me down as I continue trying to kick and hit him. When Torres turns from the passenger seat, he points a gun at me. "Shut the fuck up, Vanessa."
But I can't. I've lost all sense of anything. I only care that Hunter is back in the truck, unconscious, and I'm worried he's going to die. Hysterically, I continue to scream and flail my limbs like a wild animal.
