BooksBarbecue
Back Seasons of Chaos
Chapters (70)
  1. Dedication
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. Epilogue
  66. Acknowledgments
  67. About the Author
  68. Books by Elle Cosimano
  69. Back Ad
  70. About the Publisher

By the end of my third lap, my smaze is all but gone from my mind. I pass a flowering jacaranda. The sweet scent reminds me of Fleur, and I drag up my sleeve, veering to dodge some kids chasing ducks across the footpath as I check my wrist monitor.

Fleur’s GPS signal is gone from the screen. I tap it to zoom out, my feet slowing when I can’t find her anywhere.

No red light in the school.

Not in the café. Or on any of the streets leading home.

Breathing hard, I stand on the edge of the path and dial her cell. When there’s no answer, I try the landline at the villa. Cold sweat rolls over me as I disconnect, calculating the minutes since I last checked my monitor. It must be a glitch with her transmitter. Fleur never misses class; she wouldn’t have left early.

Swerving off the footpath, I take a shortcut through the brush, back toward Fleur’s school. There’s no clear trail, and I’m forced to slow down as I pick my way through the overgrown jungle around the park. The nearest side street is barely visible through the trees. Eyes glued to my wrist monitor, I search the map for a clearer route.

Snick.

I freeze at the all too familiar sound. Slowly, I lift my head until the edge of the switchblade kisses my throat.

“Dame tu billetera y tu celular.” The voice comes from somewhere in my periphery. A hand shoves me from behind.

“¡Hazlo ahora, cabrón!” A different voice. There are two of them.

“I don’t have my wallet on me.” I keep my eyes straight ahead and my hands up where they can see them. Lyon’s warning to avoid the police is still fresh on my mind. The one behind me pats down the pockets of my running shorts, but they’re empty. Not even a house key, and there’s no way they’re getting the security code out of me. “I told you. I don’t have any money.”

“Tu reloj.” The one beside me jabs me with the blade. It’s dull, but I have no doubt it’ll do the job. I tip my head away from it. No way in hell am I turning my only link to Fleur’s transmitter over to these assholes.

His friend grabs my wrist and I yank it away. He tries again, and I shove my elbow hard into his ribs. An icy rage takes hold of me, the desire to fight consuming every rational thought as my heel connects with his shin.