separates the backseat from the front, just like a police officer might have in his patrol car. Already I feel trapped. I hear a clicking sound as Niklas locks all of the doors after he’s inside. I glance to my left and right to see that there are no inside lock switches on either of the backseat doors. I am truly trapped in here.
We end up on Interstate 19, following close behind Victor in the old beat-up truck.
“You have become quite a wrench in the gears,” Niklas says from the driver’s seat.
I glance up to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror.
I don’t like him much. Not that I should like him at all considering the situation, but at least with Victor, despite being a killer, I felt a sense of safety. Even back at the compound as I watched him through the crack in the door with Lydia, I got the feeling I could trust him, that he would help me. My hunches were completely off, I admit, but he never hurt me. Regardless of what he is or what he’s done and what complications I’ve caused him, he never treated me badly.
Niklas, on the other hand, I get the sense is a little more intolerant.
I try to keep my eyes on the road out ahead, but it’s hard not to meet his gaze in the mirror every now and then. Because he’s always watching.
I swallow and say, “I didn’t mean to cause you and Victor any trouble.” His eyes narrow suddenly in the mirror and I catch it immediately. “But I don’t understand why it’s such a huge inconvenience to either one of you, to help me.” I tried to mask the bitterness in that, but I didn’t do so well.
“ Victor ,” Niklas says icily, which strikes me in the worst way, “since you’re now on a first-name basis with him, should have dragged you back to Javier Ruiz the second he found you.”
I hate this man.
I grit my teeth and breathe sharply through my nostrils.
“But he didn’t,” I snap. “And that tells me he’s more human than you apparently are.”
My acidic words don’t faze him like how I had hoped they would. Instead, he does something I least expected: he smiles.
“Oh, I see what you think this is,” he says with that evident German accent. “You think you’ve enchanted him somehow with your innocent girlish wiles. You’ve done nothing of the sort, just so you know. Victor, everything he does, he does it for the better of our Order. If he believes it better not to set you free or to hand you over, it has nothing to do with your well-being.”
I don’t want to believe him though a small part of me does, but I refuse to give Niklas the satisfaction of knowing he succeeded in getting under my skin.
I round my chin and look away from him, putting my eyes solely on the truck Victor is driving out ahead of us. Soon, we veer off to the right and enter an unpaved dusty road right off the interstate. The road winds through several sections of low-lining bushes and young trees, but mostly there’s nothing but dirt and an endless stretch of almost barren land three hundred and sixty-degrees around me. A few houses are perched in the distance on top of dirt hills, but I get the feeling this section of land has not been traveled in a very long time by those who own it, or anyone else for that matter.
The front of the SUV rises higher over the land as we head up a hill. Once we level out at the crest and the dust begins to settle I see four old trucks, much like the one Victor is driving, parked out in the open, waiting for us.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Eight men stand outside the trucks, shouldering rifles, all of them Javier’s men. I grip the leather seat beneath me, finding it harder to penetrate with my fingertips than the worn-out seats in the old truck. We come to a stop about one hun dred feet away.
But I don’t see Javier. Or Izel.
I begin to panic when at first I don’t see Lydia, either, but then I spot her inside the cream-colored Ford. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s Lydia. I press my face against the metal cage
We end up on Interstate 19, following close behind Victor in the old beat-up truck.
“You have become quite a wrench in the gears,” Niklas says from the driver’s seat.
I glance up to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror.
I don’t like him much. Not that I should like him at all considering the situation, but at least with Victor, despite being a killer, I felt a sense of safety. Even back at the compound as I watched him through the crack in the door with Lydia, I got the feeling I could trust him, that he would help me. My hunches were completely off, I admit, but he never hurt me. Regardless of what he is or what he’s done and what complications I’ve caused him, he never treated me badly.
Niklas, on the other hand, I get the sense is a little more intolerant.
I try to keep my eyes on the road out ahead, but it’s hard not to meet his gaze in the mirror every now and then. Because he’s always watching.
I swallow and say, “I didn’t mean to cause you and Victor any trouble.” His eyes narrow suddenly in the mirror and I catch it immediately. “But I don’t understand why it’s such a huge inconvenience to either one of you, to help me.” I tried to mask the bitterness in that, but I didn’t do so well.
“ Victor ,” Niklas says icily, which strikes me in the worst way, “since you’re now on a first-name basis with him, should have dragged you back to Javier Ruiz the second he found you.”
I hate this man.
I grit my teeth and breathe sharply through my nostrils.
“But he didn’t,” I snap. “And that tells me he’s more human than you apparently are.”
My acidic words don’t faze him like how I had hoped they would. Instead, he does something I least expected: he smiles.
“Oh, I see what you think this is,” he says with that evident German accent. “You think you’ve enchanted him somehow with your innocent girlish wiles. You’ve done nothing of the sort, just so you know. Victor, everything he does, he does it for the better of our Order. If he believes it better not to set you free or to hand you over, it has nothing to do with your well-being.”
I don’t want to believe him though a small part of me does, but I refuse to give Niklas the satisfaction of knowing he succeeded in getting under my skin.
I round my chin and look away from him, putting my eyes solely on the truck Victor is driving out ahead of us. Soon, we veer off to the right and enter an unpaved dusty road right off the interstate. The road winds through several sections of low-lining bushes and young trees, but mostly there’s nothing but dirt and an endless stretch of almost barren land three hundred and sixty-degrees around me. A few houses are perched in the distance on top of dirt hills, but I get the feeling this section of land has not been traveled in a very long time by those who own it, or anyone else for that matter.
The front of the SUV rises higher over the land as we head up a hill. Once we level out at the crest and the dust begins to settle I see four old trucks, much like the one Victor is driving, parked out in the open, waiting for us.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Eight men stand outside the trucks, shouldering rifles, all of them Javier’s men. I grip the leather seat beneath me, finding it harder to penetrate with my fingertips than the worn-out seats in the old truck. We come to a stop about one hun dred feet away.
But I don’t see Javier. Or Izel.
I begin to panic when at first I don’t see Lydia, either, but then I spot her inside the cream-colored Ford. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s Lydia. I press my face against the metal cage
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