Page 170 of Headstrong Like Us

“I’m proud of you, wolf scout.”

He almost smiles. “Don’t be too proud.” His voice lowers. “I’m still afraid of their disappointment.” He stands up, re-weaving the paracord into a bracelet.

“That just makes you huma—”

“That’s them!” Vada yells, pointing back towards the main road we hiked down.

Phone lights are specks in the dark distance as they snap photos or record us, and those pricks are snickering.

Akara swings a flashlight on them, and five guys come into view. My blood ratchets up to a boil. They’re not teenagers with baby faces. They look college-aged.

“Shitsshitohshit,” one curses at being caught, sounding British or Australian. Not even locals. Most likely college students in the area, or maybe backpacking tourists. They turn and sprint back up the road. Laughing—

“HEY!” Maximoff yells. He storms after these fuckers, fury etched in his eyes.

Shit.I bolt from the lookout point. Ditching my med bag, I run hard. My boots pound cement as I reach the secluded road, racing up the incline, elevation high.

What shocks me: Sulli is charging ahead, chasing after these snickering pricks right beside Maximoff.

And these two are fucking fast.

I’m a good ten feet behind them. My legs pump, muscles searing and pulse hammering with adrenaline. “MAXIMOFF!” I scream, lungs blistering.

“SULLI!” Akara runs, catching up to my side with the same scorching urgency. Banks is two paces behind, not as fast.

I’m not a fucking marathon runner either, and my breath heaves in spastic spurts. Giving everything inside of me to reach him. I literally can’t make up ground. I dig into pavement, tendons screaming as I lengthen my stride. As I push harder.

Harder.

I grit my teeth, fighting through my limits. Sweat drips in my eyes.

Do your motherfucking job, Farrow.

I have to protect him. I’m not letting the guy I’m with, the only one I love, enter a fistfight alone. He’s never going to be that nineteen-year-old again being beat to shit in a yacht cabin, while I laugh and drink with my friends on deck.

“SULLI!” Banks shouts.

“SLOW DOWN!” Akara yells.

They’re not slowing. They won’t. They’re pissed, and I can’t blame them. The piles of clothes on the rock ledge consisted of jeans, dresses, tees, bras, and panties.

Security has to apprehend these fuckers.

“OH SHIT!” one guy yells, seeing the sheer speed and force of Maximoff and Sulli as they close the gap. They even outpace us, their bodyguards. She’s an Olympian, and he could’ve qualified.

It’s impressive as fuck.

The road is dark. Beams of flashlights and phones whirl in chaotic directions.

Maximoff and Sulli suddenly smash into them like a head-on car collision. She shoves a guy to the pavement, and Maximoff slams a fist in a face.

The other three are about to jump him.

I see it, and I’m not there.

I’m not fucking there.

“MAXIMOFF!” I scream.