Page 187 of Heresy

They all nod simultaneously.

I would laugh at how ridiculous this is if I wasn’t so worried that at any moment it could all go horribly wrong.

Brinley

“Get up, and don’t make a damn sound.”

Wrenched awake by Scott’s voice, I scoot quickly to get away from him. He’s pressed his mouth to my ear, and just the feel of his breath is enough to set my teeth on edge.

“Why are you bothering me?”

His stone-cold face moves with an aggressive smile.

“Your boyfriend just called. He’s taken my mother and grandmother hostage. Claims he’ll kill them if you don’t drive over there where he can get his hands on you again.”

No.

Shane wouldn’t do that.

He wouldn’t murder innocent people.

Or would he?

He killed John.

But even knowing that, even though my father claimed it and Shane didn’t speak a word in denial, I still can’t help wondering if it’s true.

Tossing a set of car keys at me, he gives me a look that speaks volumes. Scott is on a warpath, and Shane just became his primary target.

“Get driving. They’re at my old house. But don’t think I won’t find you again. You can warn your boyfriend of that too.”

Shoving up from the couch, I don’t waste time running to the front door to let myself out. If I move too slow, Scott might change his mind and come after me.

It takes an hour and a half to reach Scott’s childhood home, my foot slammed on the pedal the entire way, the speed I was traveling far exceeding the limit.

For once, I wasn’t being safe or following my father’s rules. I was practically flying down the interstate, my hands gripping the wheel as a smile kept pulling at my lips.

To drive like that reminded me of Shane, and I realized that he’s already changed me in small ways. But they are changes that needed to happen.

I feel free.

No longer caged in by mind that warns me constantly of what could happen.

The prison doors were swung open, and a jackass stood on the other side of them.

Pulling into the driveway, I haven’t had time to turn off the headlights before Shane comes running out the front door.

He practically yanks me from the driver’s seat, his eyes searching my face for only a second before he hugs me so tight to his body that my feet are lifted off the ground.

“You’re okay,” he says, but it sounds like he’s assuring himself more than me.

“My dad wouldn’t have hurt me,” I say against his ear.

“He let Scott hold a gun to your head.”

I can’t argue with him on that one. Plus, with the anger that’s more than obvious in his voice, now is definitely not the time to try.

Setting me down on my feet, he slips his hand in mine.

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