This is our only shot to get out of here.
As if realizing the same thing, I hear Damian call out. “Yo, Slade. Check it out. You’ve punctured your tire.”
“Fuck off,” he says in a slight panic. “Did I? Where?”
“Yeah, it looks like a nail.”
I hear Slade move toward the front of the car and Maze and I make our break. We climb over the side of the tray and I don’t miss my brother gaping at me in surprise, though I know he won’t rat us out. Instead, he takes a massive step to his right, shielding us from Slade’s view. Maybe he’s not such a traitor after all.
We get safely to the ground while the boys check over the tire and quickly dart behind the tree. I check around to make sure the coast is clear and with lightning-fast speed, we race toward the neighbor’s yard. The very moment we clear it, we dive down behind their boundary fence while sending up a silent thanks to whoever exists above for getting us the hell out of that unscathed.
Chapter 10
Three fucking nights.
72 hours.
That was the last time I got any sleep and I’m sitting here, in the front of Shay’s old Honda in an absolute rage. Slade Fucking Cruz is going down. This is taking it too far. I need that knife back. This isn’t just some prank, trying to annoy me, this is my fucking sanity.
I should have just climbed back through that slider window and held him in a chokehold until he relented and gave it back. That prick. All I want to do is get my knife and get my ass home so I can sleep.
If only I knew where he lived. Though, it’s not like that would have helped me. One tiny hint of me in his home and he would have overpowered me and forced me out.
There’s no winning here, especially not right now that I feel like the living dead. I can’t even keep my thoughts straight. There’s no way I’ll make it through the day.
Shay pulls up at the drop-off area and I try my best to remain polite as she tells us to have a great day. I grunt and smile and even let her hug me goodbye. I climb out of her Honda with Blake beside me. “What was that all about? You were a cold bitch to her.”
“Really? My bad. I thought I was being nice.”
“Yeah…you failed.”
I don’t have time for this. I start storming into the school.
“Woah, hold up,” Blake says, easily catching up with me with those long legs of his. “What’s the rush?”
I don’t respond as I force my way through the big double doors of Aston Creek High. “Yo, Sky? What’s gotten into you?” Blake questions with a slight worry to his tone as his brows drop in concern.
My jaw clenches. I don’t like him worrying about me. It should be the other way around. I get into the locker-lined corridor filled with preppy students and look up and down for my target.
I see Damian first with his eyes already on me. He watches me with curiosity but I don’t have a second to waste on thinking about it. I find Slade a few lockers down with Nessa pressed into the hard metal, her hair all messed up and Slade’s tongue down her throat.
I don’t waste a second. I start bee-lining for the prick.
Seeing where I’m heading, Blake hurries behind me. “Sky, this is a bad idea. Whatever’s going on, let it go. It’s not worth it.”
It’s as though I don’t hear him speaking. All that matters is getting to Slade and making him pay. As it becomes clear that shit’s about to go down, people start talking and by the time I reach him, Damian is by his side, Nessa completely forgotten, and Slade’s dark eyes focused solely on mine.
“What do you want?” Slade says with a devilish smirk.
“Where is it?” I growl, fighting hard to keep my calm but I’m sure as hell that I’m about to snap.
Slade cocks his head to the side as his brows furrow. “Where’s what?”
“Stop fucking around with me. Where’s my goddamn knife?”
Blake steps in closer to my back. “Your knife?” he questions in confusion.
Slade ignores his presence as though I’m all he sees. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Fury grips me as he throws the words back in my face that I had used on him when he questioned me about the blue ink. I step into him and slam my hands against his hard chest, pissed off that it doesn’t seem to have even the slightest effect on him. “Where the fuck is it?”
“Oh,” he chuckles, digging into the pocket of his loose-hanging jeans. “You mean this knife?” Slade carelessly dangles the knife between his fingers and as my hand shoots out to steal it from him, he curls it safely into the palm of his hand.