Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“No!” I shout as I unsteadily race for the van.
A second after the van’s sliding door slams shut, it speeds off, leaving me grappling for a sense of normality on an empty street. As my fingers tangle in my shoulder-length hair, I fall to my knees. My breaths are barely a quiver compared to the thundering beats of my heart.
Time seems to vanish as I sit in the dark, the world a blur. I need to find Cameron and bring her back. Tonight’s plan was to defend her, not cause more harm. I scrub at my eyes until determination replaces the despair wetting them, and then I pull my phone out of my pocket.
Things get worse when I try to turn on my phone. The battery isn’t dead. I put it in Cameron’s purse for safekeeping before our date.
I didn’t want my father to track me if he found my empty room.
I’ve never felt more foolish about a wish to be anonymous.
Pushing off my feet, I whisper to the night air, “Hang on, Cameron. I’m coming for you.”
My lungs hunt for air as I sprint through empty streets, praying like fuck my intuition will guide me the right way. Each step feels weighted, and I struggle to breathe.
Panic tightens my chest as thoughts of Cameron roll through my head. Her beautiful face always got me out of the trouble she got me in, but this time, she’s the one in trouble, and I have no idea how to save her.
Why would someone take her? What do they want? Was this a random abduction, or was Cameron specifically targeted? The questions swirl in my head, but there are no answers.
Sweat trickles down my cheeks when I reach the outskirts of the city. The suburbs give way to skyscrapers and treeless streets. The starless sky is oppressive, and the silence is deafening. A chill traces my spine, but I set my fear aside. I have to keep going. I need to locate Cameron or at least someone who can help me.
As my eyes drift to an old payphone, I recall all the times we’ve been in trouble before. The night we snuck into an abandoned house on the edge of her hometown, and how we once “borrowed” my dad’s car and drove to the beach at midnight. The memories bring a smile to my face.
We’re constantly creating mischief, but not like this. We were always on the same team, but now Cameron’s out there somewhere, alone and afraid.
I snatch up the receiver, insert a handful of quarters, then freeze when a distant noise rings louder than the payphone’s dial tone. Although faint, it stops me in my tracks. It is hushed whispers and… an admission of guilt?
My heart pounds as I race toward the noise. As I run, the voices intensify and become clearer.
“… shouldn’t have agreed to their terms…”
“… boss’s orders…”
“… what do we do now?”
At the corner, I duck low, staying hidden in the darkness of an overhead bridge. Four men stand near a white van, their faces lit up by flickering flames. The van is burning, and a motionless human-sized figure is on its right.
The contents of my stomach rise to my throat. I try to soothe the burn with spit, to calm my racing thoughts, but since it’s too dark to take in any features of the unmoving lump, my mind runs away on me.
Too angry to think rationally, I pluck a steel rod from underneath a holey tarp and race toward the van. I move so fast that before they hear me coming, I strike one man across the back of his knees, buckling them out from under him, and hit a second man across the temple.
As I twist toward the third and fourth men, I brace for a fight. Loaded guns are more dangerous than the steel rod a homeless man used to pitch a tarp as a tent, but I won’t give up. I hold the bar high, prepared to swing if they don’t answer my question within a second of me asking it.
“Where is she?”
The goon’s eyes narrow, and although his gun is aimed at my head, finger on the trigger, he looks puzzled. “Who?”
“My girlfriend!” I clench my teeth as anger envelops me. “The person you pulled into that van”—I gesture toward the van—“a mile from St. Eugene’s.”
His eyes light up with recognition as he shifts his gun from my head to my chest. “Grayson?”
Before I can respond, a shout comes from behind me. “Don’t shoot.”
Even with my pulse pounding in my ears, I recognize the voice.
It belongs to my father.
Relief washes over me as his suit cuff brushes my wrist, but panic soon takes its place. He only ever arrives on scene when things are bad.
“They took her. They took Cameron.” The steel rod clatters against the asphalt when my father yanks it out of my loose grasp and dumps it next to the burning van and the body-like structure, which now seems more the remains of a homeless camp than a person. “We were walking back from St. Eugene’s, and they grabbed her. They pulled her into a van. Into this van.”