Page 197 of Make the Play

I spit directly in his face. “He doesn’t need me,” I say hoarsely, “but he’ll still destroy your fucking face for touching me.”

He flinches as my saliva hits him, and in that split second of hesitation, I strike.

I elbow him again, harder this time—bone to gut—and he stumbles back just as the screech of tires tears through the night.

My eyes are too foggy to see the figure charging toward us, but I hear it.

The roar.

Chapter thirty-eight

One word, small and frayed

Chase

The SOS hits my phone at 8:12 p.m.

It doesn’t buzz, itblasts. Loud and urgent, lighting up my screen with red letters and Zoe’s name.

EMERGENCY ALERT: SOS ACTIVATED

DEVICE LOCATION: Walnut Street – ALLEYWAY

For a second, I can’t move. I’m suspended in a state of silence, my brain racing to catch up with the instant rush of adrenaline pulsing in my ears.

Then everything inside me snaps.

I don’t think, I just run.

Keys. Wallet. Phone. I don’t even grab a coat. I’m barefoot when I tear out of my bedroom, jamming on the first pair of slides I see by the front door. My heart’s already beating too fast, my vision narrowing around the edges.

She sent an SOS.She sent it.

That means she knew she wasn’t safe.

I sprint to the elevator, jamming the buttons like that’ll make it move faster. The doors slide open into the lobby, and I tear through it so fast I nearly crash into the front desk counter, but there’s no Nate behind it.

He’s always here, always perched on that stool with his headset in, nodding at residents like he runs the building. But now there’s nothing.

The parking lot doors slam open, and I tear across the concrete to my SUV, keys already in hand. I throw myself into the driver’s seat, engine growling to life under me. The car screeches as I reverse out of the garage, tires spinning hard enough to smoke. I jam my phone into the dash, fingers fumbling to dial as I hit the gas.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“It’s my girlfriend,” I bite out. “She triggered an emergency alert on her phone. She’s in trouble. She’s somewhere in a fucking alleyway on Walnut, between RiNo and Five Points.”

“Sir, I need you to remain calm—”

“No, you don’t. You need to get someone there, right now.” I take the corner too fast, the seatbelt cutting into my chest. “If you don’t get there before I do, Iswear to God, I will killwhoever’s with her. I’m not bluffing. I’m not stable.Get someone there.”

There’s a pause. The operator’s voice stays calm, but it’s faster now, running down addresses, descriptions, asking me for the cross street, telling me to wait for backup.

But I don’t wait, I keep driving. I hit the alley just as the GPS pulses again—Zoe’s dot is still active. Still moving. Stillher.

I hit the brakes so hard, I jolt forward in the seat. The SUV screeches to a stop outside a brick warehouse with a side alley half-shielded from the street. I don’t even close the door behind me—just rip it open, and bolt.

Then I see her.

Pinned against the brick wall, screaming something I can’t hear over the blood pounding in my ears.

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