Page 182

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I was going too fast.

Of all the stupid, ordinary things to ruin us.

Speeding.

Hazel grips the door handle. “Don’t stop.”

“I have to.”

“No.” Her voice changes. “Ella, don’t stop.”

I glance at her. Her face has gone white.

“What?”

“Keep driving.”

The blue lights flash again.

The siren wails once more, longer this time.

I tighten my hands on the steering wheel. “Nathaniel said not to stop for anyone.”

“Then listen to him.”

For one wild second, I think about doing it. Flooring the Range Rover down the service road, crashing through whatever waits.

But the police cruiser behind us moves closer. Too close. Its headlights fill the mirrors.

“Pull over now.” From a loudspeaker, crackling.

My mouth goes dry. “I can’t outrun a cop.”

Hazel closes her eyes. “It isn’t a cop.”

“What?”

“Ella—”

The loudspeaker crackles again. “Pull over now.”

My foot goes down hard. The Range Rover surges forward. Hazel gasps and grabs the dash.

The road bends sharply left. I take it too fast, tires skidding over loose gravel. Branches whip the side of the car. My pulse is everywhere now, in my throat, my wrists, my teeth.

“Where do I go?” I shout.

Hazel looks wildly out the windshield. “There’s a fork ahead.”

“Which way?”

“Right. No. Left. Left!”

I swerve left.