No, no, no…

He leaned down next to my ear. “I could be inside you in three seconds,” he whispered. “And I will be when—”

I pounded my fist, slamming it right into his jaw, and his head bobbed, his whole body going slack.

He loosened his hold just enough, and I pulled his hands off my face, sucking down air as I pushed him off me.

Scrambling to my feet, I spun around and backed away, seeing him sitting on the mat and holding his jaw, glaring at me.

But he wasn’t moving for me yet.

I pivoted, staring at Aydin. “Open the door,” I demanded.

He cocked his head but didn’t budge.

Spotting the bottle on the table, I snatched the hem of my shirt, tearing it at the seam and ripping off a chunk as I raced for the bottle.

Grabbing it, I stuffed the cloth in, backed up toward the door, and pulled out one of the matches from my pocket, dipping down to swipe the tip over the dry grout between the tiles.

I faced the room full of boys as blood dripped down from my eyebrow and the corner of my mouth.

I met Will’s eyes, hoping he noticed the symmetry in the Molotov cocktail. He knew this trick well.

“Stay back!” I ordered them, holding the bomb and the fuse.

Aydin still inched forward, drawing close. “You think I won’t handle you myself if I have to?”

“I think you want something from me, too, so…” I stated. “Better stay on my good side.”

He laughed. “Oh, phase two,” he mused. “Anger. I was so looking forward to this one.”

Instead of being worried I could burn down their entire shelter with this one bottle, he was excited. Taylor rose from the mat, all five of them facing me and moving toward me as I drifted down the hallway.

Was I really doing this? Leaving now? No food, no clothes, no help? He wasn’t backing off. They weren’t going to let me run.

Whatever I did, I had to do it now.

I lit the cloth, raised the bottle over my head, hearing the liquid slosh around inside, and they stopped, looking halfway between charging me or retreating.

Fuck it. I launched the bottle, the glass crashing and flames bursting forth, consuming the hallway as they scrambled back, and I swung around, charging for the front door.

They’d have to go around. There was a back door in the natatorium for them to get out, and I couldn’t believe I’d done that, but that was me. Given the chance to run, I always ran.

Digging in my heels, I raced for the front door and swung it open, but then suddenly, Taylor was there, pulling me to a stop right on the front stoop.

I gasped, stumbling back, and he charged toward me, the rest of them shouting from outside, too.

They…they were already rounding the house. Shit. It only took a moment to decide. Twisting around, I scurried up the stairs, remembering that I saw a balcony overlooking the waterfall somewhere on the second floor. If I could get to it, I could shimmy down a pipe and run.

With Taylor on my tail, and the rest of the boys barreling into the house, I raced across the landing on the second floor, someone grabbing my hair from behind and yanking me back.

I whipped around, shoving Taylor away, but I lost my footing and tumbled over the railing, his fists gripping my collar and holding me as my legs flailed fifteen feet off the ground.

Ah!” I cried out, grappling for his arms. I met his angry blue eyes as he just held me there. The fire extinguisher went off downstairs, putting out the fire, and the fabric of my shirt started to rip.

I gasped.

Taylor growled as he tried to raise me, but then…he lost hold, shooting out his hands and trying to catch me again. Rory appeared, diving for me just as I fell.

I slipped, descended, and Rory toppled over with me, both of us flying through the air to the floor below.

I screamed, crashing to my side on the hard, marble surface, and I looked up, seeing the blond boy fall through the air right for me. He hit the ground next to me, his head whipping back, and I shot out my hands, catching his skull right before it cracked against the floor.

We both breathed hard, his head cradled in my palms next to me, and he blinked, finally meeting my eyes.

Then he closed them, relief falling over his face.

“Jesus Christ,” Will said, rushing over.

He took my head in his hands, inspecting me.

“Fire’s out,” Micah called. He rushed over to Rory, holding his face and gliding his hands over his torso and arms. “Anything broken?” he asked him.

Rory shook his head, and I watched Micah’s thumb rub across Rory’s cheek.

I moved my eyes around, trying to re-connect with my body, but I couldn’t tell if I was in one piece. Everything hurt.

“Emmy, Jesus…” Will glared at me, his eyes drifting down my body.

But before he could say more, Aydin dove in and swept me into his arms, something between a scowl and worry playing in his eyes, too. “Get her some food and water,” he ordered someone. “And get my kit, some clean bandages, and some alcohol.”

He carried me up the stairs, and I watched Will and Micah sling Rory’s arms around their necks and walk him, following us.

Will met my eyes over Aydin’s shoulder, and while I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he didn’t look away.

“You’re a fighter,” Aydin said. “I like you.”

What? I gaped at him, in too much pain to even roll my eyes.

“You saw the bones in my room today?” Aydin asked.

I didn’t reply.

“That was someone else who thought he could run,” he explained. “We found what was left of him three months later when we were out hunting.”

Another prisoner tried to escape?

It was definitely a human bone. A femur. I knew it the moment I picked it up.

I’d dropped it just as quickly.

I didn’t know if an animal got him or the elements, and I didn’t ask.

And then I remembered something else he’d said. His kit. Bandages.

Then there was all that stuff in his room. Biology. Drawings. Notes.

“You’re a doctor?” I said, finally realizing.

“When I want to be.”

“How long have you been here?”

He met my gaze. “Two years, one month, fifteen days.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. The idea of Will being here that long hurt.

“Use your head,” he told me, carrying me into his room as if I weighed nothing. “You’ll need it to stay alive, because this is not how we end, Emory Scott.”

Despite myself, I almost smiled.

But I didn’t.

No. This wasn’t how I ended.

I had twenty-nine days.

Emory

Nine Years Ago

I lifted one book after another, loose papers flying everywhere as I searched for my Lolita packet at the bottom of my locker. Old math papers, tattered and crinkled, blanketed the floor, and I held out book after book, fanning each one for any sign of my missing homework.

Shit.

That packet was over a week late. Where the hell did it go?

Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t believe I was about to cry over this. I should’ve just done it when it was due instead of dragging my feet. This is what I get.

I knew I lost shit when that asshole Anderson knocked my books out of my hands yet again the day before yesterday. Everything scattered over the floor of the crowded hallway, passing students kicking my crap as they went.