Page 45 of Runt's Haunted Ride
"We need to talk quietly," he said. "About getting out of here."
Right. Reality crashed back in. We were still in the Silverback clubhouse. Still surrounded by his club brothers who thought I was their property.
I glanced toward the window. It was dark outside, but I could hear voices in the main room. Music playing, girls giggling. The sounds of a party that was just kicking up.
"Gorilla shifters have incredibly enhanced hearing. If they know we're planning to run—"
"I understand," I whispered back, matching his volume. "When do we leave? Wait, I smell fire."
"Tonight. As soon as—"
I placed a hand over his mouth. Through the window, barely visible in the darkness outside, I'd caught a movement. A flash of color that didn't belong.
Orange hair.
"Jack," I breathed, my hand moving from his mouth. "Jack. A clown. Outside."
He turned immediately, following my gaze. "I don't see anything."
I looked again, squinting through the darkness. Nothing. Just an empty parking lot and the trees beyond.
"Maybe I imagined it," I started to say, but then the figure stepped into a shaft of light from the security lamp. And every part of me froze.
Jack looked the way I was staring.
The orange-haired clown stood in the parking lot, staring directly at the house. In his hand, he held a torch—actual fire blazing in the October night. As we watched, he raised it high and grinned that filed-tooth grin that had haunted my nightmares.
"Fuck," Jack hissed. "I see him now."
The clown's grin widened. We both jumped when we heard his screaming laugh as he touched the torch to the ground.
Flame spread impossibly fast, racing in a perfect circle around the clubhouse. Within seconds, we were surrounded by a ring of fire.
Jack placed me down, then ran to his door. Throwing it open, he roared, "CLOWNS!" His voice carried through the clubhouse. "FIRE! THE CLOWNS ARE HERE! FIRE!"
Immediately, chaos erupted. Shouts from the main room, the sound of chairs scraping back, heavy footsteps running. The music continued to play. The clowns screeched.
"They've come for me," I said, throwing on the zipper sweatshirt.
"Put these on," Jack tossed me a pair of grey boot-style slippers with tread on them.
"I think this might be more of a retaliation," Jack said, filling a backpack. "We messed them up pretty bad last night." He was moving with such speed I didn't know what to do other than stand in place. He went to his closet, pulling on his leather jacket, then disappeared into his bathroom.
A moment later, he grabbed my hand. "Come on." We ran to the door of his room.
"Jack, wait." I pulled away and ran back to the makeshift nest he'd created for me on his desk. The cinnamon sticks were still there, carefully preserved.
"Kai, we don't have time for—"
"These are the first gifts you ever gave me," I said, grabbing them and clutching them to my chest. "I'm not leaving them behind."
Something in his expression softened. He crossed to me in two strides, cupped my face, and kissed me hard and fast. "Alright." He put them in the backpack.
"We have to go. Now." He grabbed my hand, and we ran for the door. The hallway was chaos—Silverbacks running in every direction, some heading for windows to see what was happening, others running for weapons.
"The whole fucking place is surrounded!"
"It's those clown freaks!"
