At that point, everything became surreal to me. One minute I’d been at a club with my best friend, scoping out my crush, the next I’m injured and the prisoner of a group of people who’d so far proven themselves to be ruthless. What could I do? I’d mentioned the napkin, I’d tried to explain what had happened, but so far no one had cared to listen to me. Not even when I’d held that gun. I was beginning to suspect, deep in my bones, that they might never believe me, no matter what I said. In their minds, I was guilty and that’s all there was to it. Trying not to panic, I slumped in my seat. No one had bothered to shut the passenger door, so I heard the girls as they laughed proudly about their capture and taunted Erik. “Thought you’d escape us, did you?” one of them said. “You should have known we’d catch up to you sooner or later,” another proclaimed. “We always do.” “You never were very bright,” still another chortled. He didn’t respond, but even from this distance I could see the hurt in his dark eyes—eyes that had once been green, apparently.
