Chapters (61)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Shay
- Brody
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- Epilogue
- Enjoy this Preview of Beneath the Wreckage
- Enjoy This Book?
- Acknowledgments
- Also Available from Catherine Cowles
- Stay Connected
- About Catherine Cowles
I ran as fast as I could towards a copse of trees. They weren’t dense, but at least they might provide me some cover until help arrived. Michael shouted from behind me, but I just kept running. A bullet zinged past me, splintering the bark on a tree to my right.
I tried running a zigzag pattern to avoid one of those bullets catching me instead of a pine. But I had no idea where I was going, and my lungs burned as though I were running through a forest fire. I kept pushing forward, but I could hear Michael gaining on me.
I came to a skidding halt at a curved cliff. The waves crashed against the rocks down below. My gaze flew up to find Michael coming to a stop just feet away, the gun still in his hand. He grinned. “Out of options. I’ve got to admit, I didn’t expect you to pack quite that much of a punch. You’ll pay for that.”
I cringed but didn’t look away. I wouldn’t give him the pleasure of my fear. “Just do it already.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a choice.”
I eyed him carefully. Michael’s deals always came with a steep price. I’d learned that the hard way too many times to count. “What?”
“Try to stab me, and I won’t kill you.”
I blinked back at him. “W-w-what?”
He held his arm with the gun out to the side. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to hurt you. Just to remind you I can. But I won’t kill you. All you have to do is shed a little of my blood. A few drops, and you’ll be free.”
I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it again. None of this made any sense…Until suddenly, it did. And it broke a little something inside me. My brother wanted, more than anything, to turn me into the monster that he was. Maybe it was so he wouldn’t be alone any longer. Perhaps it was because he knew that would hurt me the most, and pain had always been his drug of choice.
I looked into Michael’s eyes. I could still see a glimmer of the little boy who’d loved Matchbox cars and ice cream sundaes. The little boy my parents would’ve given anything to save. “No.”
“I’m sorry. Did you just say ‘no?’ That you’d rather have death?” He was completely incredulous.