Chapter 1

The rain drummed against the reinforced glass like knuckles rapping for attention. I stared out at the blur of Interstate 95, the red taillights of commuters smearing into long, bloody streaks. Inside the SUV, the air smelled of conditioned leather and the stale coffee Graves kept in the cup holder.

"You missed the exit," I said.

My voice sounded small in the acoustic vacuum of the armored cabin. Graves didn't flinch. He sat like a granite slab behind the wheel, his eyes fixed on the wipers slicing through the deluge. His neck was thick, scarred from something that looked like a burn, and he hadn't said more than four words to me since picking me up from lacrosse practice.

"Graves," I said, louder this time. "Exit 42. You missed it."

"Detour," he grunted.

The lock mechanism on the doors engaged with a heavy *thud*.

My stomach dropped. I looked at the speedometer on the dash display. We were accelerating. Eighty. Ninety. The SUV surged forward, the engine growling as Graves wove through traffic, putting distance between us and the safe, predictable route home.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. My thumb hovered over the emergency contact shortcut—Dad’s head of security.

*No Service.*

I frowned. We were five miles outside the city; coverage was never an issue here. I glanced at the center console. There was a small black device jammed into the cigarette lighter, emitting a faint, pulsating blue light. A jammer.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Dad always told me it wasn't a matter of *if* someone would try to take me, but *when*. *Calculate the variables,* he’d say. *Assess the threat.*

Variable one: Graves was new. Hired three days ago.

Variable two: We were heading north, toward the unsanctioned service roads.

Variable three: He had cut my comms.

This wasn't a detour. It was an extraction.

I shifted my weight, sliding my hand toward my backpack on the floor. My fingers curled around the neck of my stainless steel water bottle. It was heavy, dented from a season of abuse on the bench. It wasn't a gun, but against the temple, it would do damage.

"Where are we going?" I asked, keeping my tone flat. I unclicked my seatbelt. The sound was deafening in the silence.

Graves’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. Dark, unreadable. He didn't answer. He banked the SUV hard to the right, tires screeching as we tore off the pavement and onto a gravel service road. The suspension groaned. Trees whipped past the windows, closing us in.

"Stop the car," I commanded. I gripped the bottle tight, my knuckles white.

"Sit back," Graves rumbled.

"I said stop the car!"

I raised the bottle, ready to swing at the back of his head, ready to crash the car if I had to. Better to crash than to vanish into a basement for ransom.

Graves slammed on the brakes.

The SUV skidded through the mud, fishtailing violently before coming to a halt in a pitch-black clearing. The headlights cut through the rain, illuminating nothing but gnarled pines and mud.

Graves killed the engine. The silence that rushed in was heavy, suffocating.

He unclipped his seatbelt and reached into his jacket.

*He’s going to do it here,* I thought. *He’s going to put me in the trunk.*

I lunged forward, swinging the bottle.

Graves moved with terrifying speed. He didn't turn to block me. He spun in his seat, his arm extending toward the back of the car. I flinched, waiting for the muzzle flash.

But the gun wasn't pointed at me.

Graves was aiming past my head, out the rear window, into the darkness of the road we had just traveled.

"Get down," he hissed.

For the first time, his voice wasn't a monotone grunt. It was urgent. Human.

"What?" I froze, the bottle hovering in mid-air.

"They compromised the house," Graves said, his eyes scanning the tree line through the rain-streaked glass. "Security codes. Cameras. The whole grid is dark. If I took you home, you’d be dead."

He hit a button on the door panel. *Click.* The locks disengaged.

"The treeline is fifty yards out," Graves said, never lowering the weapon. "Run due east. Don't stop for the cold. Don't stop for the noise. Don't look back."

He kicked his door open. The sound of the storm rushed in—wind, rain, and something else. Tires crunching on gravel. Approaching fast.

Graves bailed out into the mud, crouching behind the open door, taking a two-handed stance aimed back the way we came. *Pow. Pow.* Two shots rang out, swallowed by the thunder.

I stared at the door handle next to me.

My brain stalled. Was this real? Or was this the second layer of the game? Flush me out of the armored car, make me run into the woods where a second team was waiting to bag me? Dad said trust no one. Graves was a stranger.

But looking through the front windshield, I saw the reflection of high beams cutting through the woods behind us. Someone was chasing us.

Graves fired again. "Go, Leo! Move!"

I grabbed the handle. I looked at the dark woods, then at the man shielding me with his body. The logic crumbled. The variables didn't add up. All that was left was the instinct to survive.

I shoved the door open and sprinted into the dark.