Page 151 of Did They Break You

But it’s obliterated by another one.

My stepdad finding out. Sloane. Van.

The world.

At the thought of Van, though, I jump, turning toward the touchscreen of his truck. “Fuck,” I whisper, and he laughs, turning my head back to him.

“That word from your lips is so fucking hot,” he says softly.

I smile despite my pounding heart as I scramble off of him and he lets me go, slapping my ass as I do.

I push my feet into my leggings, pull them up, uncaring of the mess between my thighs as I shove my shoes on.

And just as I open my mouth to tell him we need to drive back to my cabin, the truck jolts, like someone is…jumping on it.

I clamp my hand over my mouth, and at the same time, Cortland leans across the console, opening up the glove compartment. Cold fear washes over me as he pulls a black handgun out, slapping closed the compartment as the truck jolts again.

I sit up straighter, looking in the rear-view mirror, but it’s so damn dark, I can’t see anything.

“Cortland,” I whisper through my fingers.

He puts a heavy hand on my thigh, squeezing me gently. “Shh, baby,” he says, and I see his finger is on the trigger of the gun.

My heart is thudding too loud in my chest, and I keep glancing around the tinted windows, out the windshield.

Another thud of the truck.

Cortland has the gun aimed upward, at the roof, but he’s looking out the side-view mirror, his hand still on my thigh.

I can feel my pulse thrashing in my ears, my legs weak even though I’m sitting.

“Cortland,” I whisper again, “who do you think?—”

A loud, smacking sound makes me jump in my seat, instinctively moving closer to the center console. Closer to Cortland, his hand still parked on my thigh.

“Get down in your seat,” he says quietly, but his words are a command.

“You, too,” I hiss at him, my eyes scanning the forest, but there’s nothing. No sound.Nothing.

And before I can move, I feel something cold against the side of my head.

Turning, I see Cortland has the gun to my temple.

My breath leaves me as I lock eyes with him and my heart seems to stop beating in my chest.

“Now is not the time to argue with me, baby.” His gaze doesn’t leave mine. He drags the barrel of the gun down lightly, to my mouth, brushing it against my lips. He nods his head toward the floorboard. “Now,get down.”

I swallow down my nerves, then do as he said, sliding down in the seat, my body curled up as I position myself under the dash.

I glance up and see Cortland’s eyes on mine, a slight smile on his lips, that gun still pointed up, the veins in his forearms bulging from the faint light of the dash. His aim is steady.

“I’ve got you, baby.”

But then his door is snatched open and I scream, scrambling up from my seat, throwing open my own door as he’s pulled out.

A shot rings out, reminding me of that movie before I fell apart in Storm and Cortland’s arms.

My chest hurts, but my Chucks hit the floor of the forest and I plant my hand on the hood of the truck and climb up, using the tire. Then I jump off on the other side, adrenaline flooding through me as I land, crouched down. The echo of the gunshot is still ringing in my ears as I see someone grabbing Cortland. They’re dressed in all black as they drag him away from the truck.

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