town wasn't dead. He could have worked retail or fast food like every other kid our age.
But that was just the thing...Jace wasn't like us. He had so much intensity, so much passion. An old soul. That was what drew me to him. The beauty.
The darkness.
But I never imagined the darkness would pull him to Macone.
My gas light flickered to life on my dashboard. I was feeling antsy anyway, so I pulled into the next gas station I saw.
It was one of the old school ones. There was nothing fancy or electronic, everything covered in ancient rust. I half expected someone to trot out to the car and ask me if I wanted them to pump the gas for me.
I stepped out of my car, stretching my arms to the overcast sky. It's funny how sunny and upbeat it was on the way to The Heights, and now it looked moments away from dumping buckets. I’d driven out with so much hope tucked in my heart, and Jace shredded it all.
Swallowing the tears, I fished a twenty out of my wallet and walked into the gas station.
I frowned. There was a register, but no one was behind it. I opened my mouth to alert whoever was working in the back that they better come quick. Their only paying customer was tempted to test her luck and go to the next station. A sound choked the words before they passed my lips.
Since I'd just been doing a fair amount of crying myself, I knew what a sob sounded like. And it was followed by a commotion, like something, or someone, had fallen to the floor.
I was frozen, fight or flight stalled. My brain was working a million miles a minute, even if my limbs wouldn't move. It told me to back out of the exit, climb back in my car, and as soon as I put a few blocks between me and this place, to call the police.
And then I heard it. Two distinct popping sounds that made me flinch. My heart stopped cold.
I'd seen action movies before: testosterone filled epics where bullets flew and the bad guys dropped dead. The sound I heard was loud and crude, so loud that I was surprised I didn't hear sirens immediately. The crack should have been easily heard at the police station dozens of miles away.
Someone had just fired a gun.
And from the silence that followed, I had an idea that they'd fired it into the person who had sobbed. Begging for mercy where there was none.
But I still couldn't move.
Not even when a man strode out of the back room. He was in all black, from his inky cropped hair to his black shirt and jeans, holding a black gun in his hand. A gun with a long chamber at the end.
A silencer? That sound I heard was suppressed? It was supposed to be a tiny splat, a whisper in the dark.
The movies got it all wrong.
I'd never been in shock before, but I had a feeling that's what this was. I should have been out the door, not comparing Hollywood to the grim reality in front of me.
I blinked, fear making me glad I hadn't had anything to drink recently or it would be puddling at my feet.
I took a single step backward as the guy in black raised his arm—and his gun.
I closed my eyes.
I was about to die.
Would they leave my body somewhere to be discovered, or would my parents always wonder?
Would Jace miss me?
"No!"
I thought the word came from me, but my mouth was clamped shut, terrified to utter a single syllable.
I popped my eyes open and saw a second man. He was taller than the first. Older, with long salt and pepper hair and familiar brown eyes.
He stepped in between me and the man with murder in his gaze.
He was my savior. He said only one word.
“Run.”
The other man didn't approve, but his curses were far behind me. My fingers felt foreign and useless, but somehow I got in my car and burned rubber. The world spun off its axis until I'd put miles and miles between me and the gas station. I could barely see the windshield through my tears, snot oozing from my nose. I was babbling and laughing like a crazy person.
Shaking and picking up the pieces of my sanity, I pulled into a McDonald’s parking lot. It was teeming
But that was just the thing...Jace wasn't like us. He had so much intensity, so much passion. An old soul. That was what drew me to him. The beauty.
The darkness.
But I never imagined the darkness would pull him to Macone.
My gas light flickered to life on my dashboard. I was feeling antsy anyway, so I pulled into the next gas station I saw.
It was one of the old school ones. There was nothing fancy or electronic, everything covered in ancient rust. I half expected someone to trot out to the car and ask me if I wanted them to pump the gas for me.
I stepped out of my car, stretching my arms to the overcast sky. It's funny how sunny and upbeat it was on the way to The Heights, and now it looked moments away from dumping buckets. I’d driven out with so much hope tucked in my heart, and Jace shredded it all.
Swallowing the tears, I fished a twenty out of my wallet and walked into the gas station.
I frowned. There was a register, but no one was behind it. I opened my mouth to alert whoever was working in the back that they better come quick. Their only paying customer was tempted to test her luck and go to the next station. A sound choked the words before they passed my lips.
Since I'd just been doing a fair amount of crying myself, I knew what a sob sounded like. And it was followed by a commotion, like something, or someone, had fallen to the floor.
I was frozen, fight or flight stalled. My brain was working a million miles a minute, even if my limbs wouldn't move. It told me to back out of the exit, climb back in my car, and as soon as I put a few blocks between me and this place, to call the police.
And then I heard it. Two distinct popping sounds that made me flinch. My heart stopped cold.
I'd seen action movies before: testosterone filled epics where bullets flew and the bad guys dropped dead. The sound I heard was loud and crude, so loud that I was surprised I didn't hear sirens immediately. The crack should have been easily heard at the police station dozens of miles away.
Someone had just fired a gun.
And from the silence that followed, I had an idea that they'd fired it into the person who had sobbed. Begging for mercy where there was none.
But I still couldn't move.
Not even when a man strode out of the back room. He was in all black, from his inky cropped hair to his black shirt and jeans, holding a black gun in his hand. A gun with a long chamber at the end.
A silencer? That sound I heard was suppressed? It was supposed to be a tiny splat, a whisper in the dark.
The movies got it all wrong.
I'd never been in shock before, but I had a feeling that's what this was. I should have been out the door, not comparing Hollywood to the grim reality in front of me.
I blinked, fear making me glad I hadn't had anything to drink recently or it would be puddling at my feet.
I took a single step backward as the guy in black raised his arm—and his gun.
I closed my eyes.
I was about to die.
Would they leave my body somewhere to be discovered, or would my parents always wonder?
Would Jace miss me?
"No!"
I thought the word came from me, but my mouth was clamped shut, terrified to utter a single syllable.
I popped my eyes open and saw a second man. He was taller than the first. Older, with long salt and pepper hair and familiar brown eyes.
He stepped in between me and the man with murder in his gaze.
He was my savior. He said only one word.
“Run.”
The other man didn't approve, but his curses were far behind me. My fingers felt foreign and useless, but somehow I got in my car and burned rubber. The world spun off its axis until I'd put miles and miles between me and the gas station. I could barely see the windshield through my tears, snot oozing from my nose. I was babbling and laughing like a crazy person.
Shaking and picking up the pieces of my sanity, I pulled into a McDonald’s parking lot. It was teeming
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