Nothing has ever been more beautiful than the sight of my bleary-eyed best friend in a beat-up rental car.
The second Hope pulls the car into the lot of this godforsaken gas station, I come limping out from my hiding place behind the gas station. It's been hours of standing and waiting, pressing my back against the bricks and hoping no one from the dealership has come looking for me.
The cuts from the rope around my wrists throb in time with my pulse. Every heartbeat sends fresh waves of agony through my mangled ankle, and the gouges from the dog attack feel like they're on fire. The lingering effects of whatever drugs Ilya pumped into my system have my head spinning, my vision blurring at the edges.
But I force myself forward anyway.
Hope always swore she'd help me bury a dead body, n
