Page 53 of Dual

I pull my car over, throw it into park, and jump out, racing across the road. I position myself carefully, right in the center of the road, directly in their path, but with the small culvert hidden from view by a scrubby tree.

The sedan backs up, turning to face me. Through the windshield, I can finally see their faces clearly as they pull their sunglasses off to get a better look at me standing there.

My blood freezes, then boils.

The D'Angelo brothers.

Giuseppe and Marco. Human traffickers who deal in young girls. Men who once offered my father millions for access to a network of vulnerable Sudanese refugees that runners were helping escape Darfur to reunite with their families in Egypt. Men whose deal I sabotaged by corrupting the data, right before my father disappeared.

I should've known they'd find me eventually.

The car revs, engine growling like an animal. I raise my hands, standing perfectly still in the middle of the road. Defiant. Daring them, even though I'm theoretically surrendering.

"Come on, you pieces of shit," I hiss under my breath.

They accelerate straight toward me, exactly as I knew they would. These are not men who use guns. Too impersonal. They prefer to watch suffering up close.

I stand my ground, calculating the exact moment?—

Three... Two... One...

At the last possible second, I dive to the side and over the flimsy guardrail, tucking my body into a tight ball as I hit the sloped concrete of the culvert. The impact knocks the breath out of me, pain exploding across my back and neck as I slide down the rough surface and cling to brambly bushes at the edge of the concrete.

Above me, I hear the screech of brakes, a frantic honk, then a tremendous crash as two tons of metal plows through the guardrail. The sedan soars over my head like a grotesque metal bird before nose-diving into the concrete drainage thirty feet below.

The impact is catastrophic. Metal screeches. Glass shatters. Something hot hits my back as I crouch down with my hands over my head.

I don't stay to check if they survived. The angle of the car's crumpled hood tells me everything I need to know.

Ignoring the burning pain shooting through my shoulder, I scramble back up to the road, half crawling, half climbing over the broken guardrail. My breath comes in harsh pants, my heart slamming against my ribs.

I stagger back to my car, nearly falling into the driver's seat. My hands leave bloody prints on the steering wheel as I pull back onto the road, tires spinning on the loose gravel.

I drive in a daze, pure instinct taking over. Get on the highway. Keep to the speed limit. Don't attract attention.

Two hours pass in a blur of concrete and guardrails, the rhythm of the road a dull counterpoint to the throbbing pain across my back. Eventually, the insistent sting becomes too much to ignore, and I pull off at a desolate gas station—the kind with a single pump and a bathroom key attached to a splintered wooden block.

Inside the grimy bathroom, I peel off my jacket, twist to look at my reflection in the cloudy mirror. There's a jagged gash running diagonally across my shoulder blade, still oozing blood, probably from flying debris when the car hit. It looks worse than it is, I think.

I clean it as best I can with rough paper towels and water that smells vaguely of sulfur. It stings like a motherfucker, but pain is an old friend. I've had worse. Will have worse again, probably.

As I press a damp towel to the wound, I feel that familiar shifting sensation—like the ground tilting beneath my feet, the world receding behind a curtain.

No. No. No. Not now.

"Stay away," I hiss through gritted teeth. "I need more time."

But it's already happening. The bathroom blurs around me, edges softening, colors fading. I grab the sink to steady myself as my consciousness begins to slide sideways, making room forher.

My last thought is of Domhnall—of his face when hefinds my letter. The way he looked at me last night, like I was something worth saving.

I'm sorry, I think as darkness closes in.I'm so fucking sorry.

And then I'm gone.

SEVENTEEN

ANNA