Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
"You're fucking twitchy," the guy beside me says. "What the fuck is going on?"
I look over at him, snarl in place, but the worst fucking thing that can happen is something that prevents me from getting back into the compound so I can find Zayne.
"Do you know how fucking hard it is to watch you guys smoke and not take a hit myself?" I lie.
"Dude?" the driver says. "You could've had a hit."
"He's got fucking court," the guy beside him says, slapping his friend in the chest with the back of his hand. "That's insensitive."
"Just having one of those hard-ass days," I mutter, watching as the guy in the passenger seat pulls out his phone.
He gets a text, the information he's been given making him freeze. I watch as he fights the urge to look in my direction. An eeriness settles over me, confirmation in how he's acting enough to make me understand that shit has gone south.
He slides the phone across the seat as if I'm not high enough in the backseat to see him do it.
When the driver looks down and reads it, his eyes meet mine in the rearview. The second he snaps them back to the fucking road, I know it's over.
What I can't decide is if I lose my shit in this vehicle, forcing them to pull over, or if I have a better chance of finding Zayne if I let them take me back into the compound.
"Motherfucker," the guy behind the wheel mutters, just as the whoop of a cop car makes its presence known behind us. "What do I do?"
"Just get us back home," the guy in the passenger seat urges. "We have the cops around here in our pocket."
I look over my shoulder, paying more attention to the dark SUV behind the cop car.
I swallow, feeling both hopeful and terrified at the same time.
I know what it takes to breach a compound like the one The League of Liberty is operating out of. I know the forewarning they'll have prepares them in ways that will end in some sort of tragedy.
"Are you a fucking cop?" the passenger demands as the driver slows, but still hasn't pulled over yet.
"No," I tell him honestly.
He looks down at his phone, typing feverishly into the motherfucker, when honestly, a fucking phone call would work faster, but you can't tell these idiots shit.
"I have to pull over," the driver says.
"I'm on parole," the fucker beside me mutters.
"I am too," the driver says.
"Who isn't?" the passenger says. "Get us back to the compound."
The driver, coming to his senses, eases the car to the side of the road.
I hiss out a breath of relief. The driver uses his buttons to roll down all the windows, something most felons know to do to ease an officer's mind on a traffic stop.
"It's a lady cop," the guy in the passenger seat says, as if her gender will change the outcome.
I fight the urge to mention how absolutely gross they all are, and I'm not even referencing the fact that we've been digging in mud for the last four hours. I'm certain a policewoman has higher standards than Melody at The Garage.
"I got dope on me," the one beside me says. "I can't go back to prison."
I don't know how I should play this. Do I keep pretending I'm part of them? Will Cerberus arrest us all?
They wouldn't be behind the car if they hadn't been the ones to set this stop into motion. This wasn't in that fucking dossier. Their being involved in this makes it very likely that shit has gone sideways. Something pretty fucking major has to have happened for them to risk the chance of our cover being blown. My nerves shatter as we sit and wait, my head running through every possible scenario that could lead to this.
Are they just going to talk to us, giving Cerberus a chance to touch base because we haven't checked in in a few days?
Is Zayne in major trouble at the compound?
Have they discovered other information that makes our positioning with The League irrelevant?
The crunch of boots on gravel fills the car as the cop walks up, but before she can even introduce herself or ask for a license and insurance, gunfire echoes around me.
The metallic tang of blood fills my nostrils as wetness spatters my face, and I'm taken back to a time I begged to die, a time when my body was full of so much pain I saw no sense in survival.
It's the disadvantage I'm at that makes my head glitch. If I had a weapon in my hand, a way to fight back, I know without a doubt that my mind would be clear and in a split second I'd know how I needed to react.
The deafening pop of gunfire echoes around me, my ears aching from the proximity of it in an enclosed space.