Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
My eyes fly back to my sister. “What did you do to her?
“Gave her a paralytic,” she responds nonchalantly. “Nothing too serious.”
“She drugged me at Onyx that night,” Josslyn says with a scratchy voice. “She was the one who drugged me and took me home.”
It takes a moment for that to sink in, and after what I saw when I walked in here… “What did you do to her?” I demand. “Did you touch her?!”
My sister’s brows shoot up. “So testy about her. What, you can’t share with your sister?”
I take a step forward, and she lifts the gun. I don’t know where the fuck she’s aiming, but I’m close enough that if she shoots me, she’ll hit something. My shoulder, my arm, my heart, I don’t know. Right now, I’m so fucking enraged at the thought that my sister did something to Josslyn, that I don’t care.
“Leave!” Mallory shouts, her voice cracking. “Please go. I don’t want to hurt you!”
“You think I’m going to leave her?!” I ask, my hands shaking at my sides. “You leave. Go back to wherever the fuck you came from!”
“I’M NOT LEAVING WITHOUT HER!” she roars.
I open my mouth to scream at her when the megaphone goes off again.
“We are coming in! Please put your weapon down and surrender, Miss Barlow!”
Her eyes widen as if she’s just now—hours later—understanding the gravity of this. Her awareness quickly turns into panic. I know that look well. It’s the same look she had when I forced her to go on rollercoasters. It’s obvious my sister needs help, and I would feel sorry for her, if she wasn’t holding my girlfriend hostage. Loud footsteps and demands get closer as we stand there, and I bring the gun back up and point it at her.
“Put the gun down, Mallory!” I plead. “This is your last chance. Put it down!”
Footsteps pound on the porch. Everything happens in a fraction of a second, but it plays out in slow motion in front of me. Gun still raised, Mallory turns her body toward Josslyn, and I pull the trigger.
Bang.
Bang.
The door bangs open, crashing into the glass cabinet behind it and shattering it with the full force of it. Guns are pointed at me and Mallory is splayed out on the floor lying in a pool of blood. She makes a sound and someone rushes over to her and starts yelling for medics.
“PUT YOUR WEAPON DOWN!” one of them shouts, and I realize I’m still holding the gun in shooting position.
I lower my arms and crouch to set it on the ground, kicking it over to them. My attention flies to the couch where Josslyn is still motionless. I take a step toward her, and when I see the blood seeping through her shirt, I stop breathing. No. Oh, God. No. For a second, I’m frozen again, and then the chaos inside me snaps.
“NO!” I yell, lurching forward. “JOSSLYN!”
An officer holds me back, and I push him to the side. Another comes, and I fight him as well.
“JOSSLYN!” I yell, yanking my arms away from them until I’m free.
I take another step, a third man runs over to hold me back, and then a fourth. I watch as the medics rush inside with gurneys, taking my sister away while the others run to Josslyn.
“JOSSLYN! PLEASE!” I scream again, as they lift her up and check her vitals. “SHE’S NOT MOVING. WHY IS SHE NOT MOVING?!”
The voices around me are muted by the pounding in my ears. I keep saying Josslyn’s name and fighting the officers holding me back, as I watch paramedics lift the gurney she’s on. Her head lolls to the side again and my chest grips tighter than ever before. Tears sting my eyes as I shout her name, begging her to be okay, pleading that she’ll stay alive. She can’t die. She can’t fucking die on me. My throat burns, but I keep fighting and screaming as they carry her out of the house.
62
FINN
“MOVE OR I BURY YOU WHEN THIS IS OVER,” I yell at the men surrounding me.
“Let him go,” Chief Rivera demands from somewhere behind them.
They do, and I don’t look twice; I just take off running. Out front, there are camera crews and news helicopters. People are being held on the other side of a barricade. I hear my name called out, but I’m zoned in on the paramedic truck that’s taking Josslyn. I run faster when they’re about to shut the door, pull it open, and jump inside.
“Sir—”
“DRIVE!” I bellow. “FUCKING DRIVE!”
They do, and I launch myself at her and hold her hand while they start checking vitals and doing all kinds of shit.
“Is she okay?” I ask desperately, squeezing her hand as tears fill my eyes. “Is she okay?!”
“She’s alive,” the paramedic says. “You’re going to have to back up and let us work.” When I don’t do it, she pierces me with a glare. “Do you want her to survive or not?!”