Kellen dashed.

She sprinted.

Only one thing saved her: that low tire gave the truck a terrifying shimmy. The front bumper dragged through the grass.

Behind her, the engine roared, closer and closer.

Come on. Come on. Dynamite, explode!

She had placed tape across the eight feet of fuse wire several times. Was it still alight? Or, slapped by wet grass and spattered with mud, had it sputtered out, leaving Kellen to die at Mara’s hands?

No. No! In less than a half mile, the cliffs dropped straight into the ocean. Kellen would jump to her death before she let Mara kill her. Before she would let Mara win.

Why doesn’t the truck explode?

And, she knew, Mara would follow her over.

Behind her, the engine revved.

Kellen glanced back.

The truck, goldenrod yellow with a black roof, spun tires as it headed toward her. Faster, faster—Mara mashed on the accelerator, ripping through the damp grasses.

Closer and closer…

There! That oak! Kellen changed course, dove around the massive trunk.

Mara twisted the wheel. The back wheels fishtailed, turning the truck ninety degrees to face Kellen—and then around too far, leaving Mara stopped and facing the wrong direction.

Gasping, Kellen pulled the flare from her belt, peeled back the seal and, with shaking hands, uncapped it.

Mara looked around, spotted Kellen, rolled down her window and shouted, “Sucks to be you, Cecilia!”

Just like that, Kellen’s hands stopped shaking. Moving smoothly, she placed the cap on the bottom of the flare, pointed the metal tube at Mara and thumped it on the tree trunk. The flare roared to life, slammed into the driver’s door post—too bad it hadn’t gone inside—then skittered across the windshield, detonating in a shower of white, red and green stars.

Mara dove sideways on the seat, away from the burst.

Kellen held her aching side and laughed loudly enough for Mara to hear… Or rather, she would have heard if she hadn’t been deafened by the explosion. Which Kellen knew she was.

Stupid for Kellen to allow herself this moment of triumph. Maybe she’d screwed up the dynamite, maybe she would die, but at least she’d made Mara sit in a wet seat.

Mara sat up, blinking, blinded.

Kellen saw a large shadow pass over the ocean onto the land, heard a familiar chopping sound—

Helicopter.

Another trick of Mara’s?

Or Max?

For a split second, she glanced up. Orange and white.

Coast Guard!

The truck engine roared to life again.

Kellen turned and sprinted toward the cliffs.

The sound of the truck’s engine grew fainter.

She peeked behind her.

Mara was on the move, but not as fast, and she wove as if the flare had robbed her of sight.

The dynamite should explode!

Maybe the fuse wire was defective.

Explode!

Maybe Kellen had screwed up the blasting cap.

Explode!