In the distance, instead of two dark forms running into the night, there are three—and the first one doesn’t have a decent head start. I jump into my Escalade and tear off after them.

Chapter 5

Haley

My lungs burn and my arms and legs pump quickly. The graffiti on the concrete walls of the freeway viaduct blend into a colored blur. I’m out of shape. Six months ago, I could have outrun them, but not now. Not today. My feet smack against the blacktop and the sound echoes in the tunnel. The stench of mold and decay fills my nose.

There’s a splash as someone stomps into a puddle, followed by the sound of more shoes against the street. My breath comes out in gasps and I will my muscles to move faster.

Heat rises off my body and into the cold night and my nose begins to run. I don’t want them to hurt me, and the thought of a man’s hand colliding with my body causes my heart to clench. My fist tightens around Dad’s medication. I don’t want to lose it. The answer is to be faster, but, if they catch me, I’ll be left with no other choice than to fight.

Their footsteps ring closer in my ears and my old training floods into my brain. I need to turn, face them and form a defensive stance. I can’t be dragged to the ground by my hair.

Lights from behind create a beacon of hope. My pursuers’ footfalls continue in their hunt but fall off near the walls of the tunnel, out of sight of the approaching car. I put on a burst of speed. Two more blocks and I’ll be inside. Safe from this.

Brakes squeal and a door snaps open. Voices. Shouting. The sound of a fist smacking into flesh. Continuing, I peek over my shoulder and air slams out of me when I notice the Escalade.

No.

Please, God, no.

My body rocks forward as my feet become concrete. It’s the guy from the shopping plaza. He’s fighting them. Three shadows spar against the headlights; a hellish dogfight of arms, fists, legs, grunts and growls. They’re all the same height, but I know which one’s him. He’s thicker. More muscular. He’s a scrapper, but he’s going to lose.

Two against one.

My chest rises and falls and I glance down the street, toward my uncle’s house, toward relative safety. I’m minutes away from curfew, I’ve got my father’s prescription in my grasp, but leaving a guy behind—it’s not how I was raised.

Knowing this has the potential to end extremely badly for me, I switch directions to join the fight.

Chapter 6

West

Son of a bitch.

My head turns as the bastard with the black hoodie sucker punches me in the jaw. Blood pours from my lip, but I ignore it and the pain as I ram my fist into his stomach. He goes down, but it’s not him that has me worried.

I spin to the left, but I’m too late. The ass**le with the winter coat, the guy who’s schooled on how to fight, he’s back on his feet after I busted him in the nuts. The psychopath grins as he nears me. He rubs a spot on his forehead and widens his stance, just like I’ve seen pay-per-view fighters do in the ring.

My fists go up, but my muscles are heavy. Two fights in one day and taking on two guys at once. I could almost laugh. Guess I’ve learned my hard limit. We round each other and I try to keep an eye on the guy still on the ground.

We circle.

Slowly.

Shit. This kid’s a fighter. A real one. And something tells me he’s not going to make the mistake of letting me kick him in the balls again.

He flashes toward me at lightning speed. Two rapid-fire punches from the left. My body sways and my vision becomes fuzzy. I swing out, sensing he’s close, but I miss.

A hit from the right—mind-shattering, blinding pain—and I fall to the ground. Rocks dig into my knees and warmth rushes to the area near my eye. Everything wavers. My thoughts. My sight. A metallic taste floods my mouth and I grab on to one thought.

“Is she gone?” I ask. “Did she get away?”

This can’t be in vain.

I couldn’t protect Rachel. I couldn’t stop Gavin from pursuing his addiction. I couldn’t stop Dad from placing everything else first. I couldn’t stop Mom from having an affair, from finding a way out. But I can do this. I can protect her. I need redemption.

He stands over me, and through one eye I see yellowish hair and dark eyes fixed on me. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I know where to find Haley.”

Haley. Pretty name for a pretty girl. I try to breathe, but my lungs cramp up. I glance at him one last time, knowing there’s no mercy rule with this kid. “Mind leaving the car?”

“Sure.”

Yeah. It’ll be gone before I peel myself off the concrete. I plant my foot on the ground and the world rotates. Fuck, I’m screwed. I lift my head and chuckle when I notice blood trickling near his mouth. “I nailed the fighter.”

He pulls his arm back and the world goes black.

* * *

“Please be breathing!” A familiar voice calls me from the darkness. A feminine voice. A beautiful voice. Soft fingers brush against my forehead and I suck in air. Pain slices through my chest—breathing is bad.

“Please wake up. I didn’t go through this for you to be dead.”

“It’s okay, Rachel,” I mumble. Her tone, a mixture of torture and agony, scrapes at my soul. It’s the same tone Rachel had when she felt I had betrayed her. “I’m sorry.”

The cold fingers touching my head pause. Why isn’t she warm?

“Oh, thank God. You’re alive.”

The voice is familiar, but not Rachel’s. I fight the fog and force consciousness and every muscle screams as I stretch.