In The Wind
DELILAH
My nerves are on edge. Every single one of them.
I hear the alarm from the horns mounted on each corner of the prison go off, and those same nerves slice in half, dancing on a blade’s pointy end. The muffled noises from inside the gray building spill outside, and in the backseat of Marco’s muscle car (or rather the car he stole), I squirm, moving forward to get a better look as the vehicle runs quietly in the bushes just outside of the prison’s big fence.
I glance over Marco’s shoulder as he sits quietly in the front driver’s seat, his eyes glued to the hectic scene outside.
“And what did you tell him, Ang?” he asks, still looking out the windshield.
“Nothing,” Javi’s closest friend shakes her head beside me. “I didn’t get a chance to. Your guy interrupted before
