Take Me Tomorrow

Chapter 25: Ignore the Blood

My hands remained cuffed. They didn't even remove the restraints when they put a sweater over me. Backward, of course. With the hood pulled over my eyes and the edges tugged at the back of my ears, the only thing I could make out was the strong hand that dug into my right shoulder. Pierson's grip.

After I told Anthony information, he kept me in Phelps' mansion in a backroom, one I read The Iliad in during a meeting my father had with him. This time, only the memory of the book kept me company. Hours passed. Once the sun disappeared, he pulled me out and directed me into a car. Pierson drove us somewhere, but we had left the truck minutes ago. We were walking. I had no perception of where we were.

The air smelled like oak trees, and my nose tingled at the familiar scent of a forest. I stumbled from concrete to a dirt path. Why Anthony was taking me into the woods was something I didn't want to ask myself. I fixated on my senses instead—the cool air, the loose ground, the waving trees. If I had to run, I would. If it came down to it, I wondered if I would kill.

"Take it off." Anthony's whisper was hoarse.

Fingers grazed my nose through the cloth hood as it was grabbed and pulled down. My hair swished in front of my eyes as my pupils adjusted to the night sky. It was late—much later than I thought—and stars scattered across the atmosphere. We weren't close to the city, but I recognized the large oak tree in the middle of the clearing.

We stood on the edges of my father's land. I was almost home.

Anthony walked forward. "We have a ways to go."

Pierson pressed his fingertips to my back, and I sprung forward, following the blond through the trees.

"Step over," Pierson directed me, pointing at a pile of stones, but I already had lifted my leg. I knew the piles of stones. I had nearly broken my ankle on them when I was surveying the land last summer. I wouldn't forget they were there, even though it was almost too dark to see them.

Anthony didn't bring a flashlight, and I severely doubted the two boys knew the woods like I did.

"There's a river right there." I lifted my cuffed hands to point.

Anthony's blond hair glittered in the moonlight as he turned to look. When he saw it, his eyebrows rose. "Go first then," he dared.

I shook my handcuffs. It was a deep river, a strong one. Without my hands to balance me, I might fall in and it would be hard to get up. I had always hated water more than land.

"Follow me," Pierson muttered as he walked forward. He leapt onto the exposed stones, water grazing the toe of his boot. When he looked back, his face hardened.

The river was rushing past us at the same speed that it was during the homecoming party. Noah had tossed me in and I had almost drowned. I gulped.

"Can I take my cuffs off?" I asked Anthony.

He shook his head. "You can make it."

I bent my knee, ready to kick him in the groin, but Pierson cleared his throat. "Swallowed a bug," he dismissed once he gained our attention.

Whether he had done it to warn me or not wasn't my concern. Neither was Anthony. I was too close to home.

I sucked in a breath before I jumped to the first stone—round and shiny but ridged. My feet landed on it; my body swayed. The momentum carried me into my next leap. Louder than the rushing water, Anthony laughed at the torturous show. I drowned him out as I hopped from one stone to a log, nearing the two-foot embankment on the other side. Getting above the dirt wall, though, would be impossible.