Chapter 38
LARISSA
PEDAL TO THE floor of the classic, I race out of the driveway while mentally searching for Tyler’s motive in leading me home.
Knowing he isn’t allowing me to be present for the fallout due to the drive time alone.
Racking my brain, I sift through every tactic I can recollect from the strategy books I spent my days perusing in his tent.
Curious which clues he left for my benefit in preparation for today.
The possibilities seeming endless as the tightness in my chest becomes unbearable.
Dry, hacking coughs threaten to blind me as I speed down the rural road in search of the nearby town.
Ignoring the recalculation of the GPS with every blind turn, I start to grow dizzy.
It’s the endless barren roads surrounding me that start to ramp up my anxiety. Cecelia’s café isn’t far from her house—I know if I can somehow get to her, or to someone who can reach her, I can reach Tobias.
As I struggle to remember the name of her café and plug it into the GPS, it’s the next cough and the sight of blood on my fingers that have me again shifting direction.
Panic threatens to take over, but when I spot familiar golden arches, I immediately cut the wheel, speeding in their direction.
As I draw closer, I scan the surrounding buildings until I’m coughing so hard, I’m forced to pull over.
I am barely able to get the driver’s door open before I vomit the water I downed earlier.
Slamming the door back after emptying my stomach, I let out a roar of frustration as the damning truth once again rears its ugly head—no one is coming.
“Iggy,” I rasp out in terror, sending up a prayer in hopes that at least one of the safeguards I set in place has come to fruition.
Pounding my palms against the wheel, utterly helpless against what’s transpiring, I grow more furious with the man who purposely set me up to fail, making sure I have no chance at rectifying my fucked position.
He left me weak, sick, and unfit to fight.
With no way of knowing who’s watching me, I pull back onto the road until blood-laced phlegm coats my lips and nausea hits. On the verge of passing out, I slow, carefully scanning every building, a relieved mewl leaving me when I finally spot the sign I’ve been looking for.
Sweat breaking out on my forehead, knowing I’m on the brink of losing consciousness, I park Tyler’s truck to conceal it, knowing there’s most likely a tracker on it.
Too far gone to care, I stumble through the sliding glass doors of the lobby just as a passerby in scrubs takes notice.
I’m mere steps in when he grips my elbows to keep me upright, and barely able to wheeze out my plea as black spots dot my vision. “Please, help me.”