Page 113 of How to Flirt with a Witch

I scowl. Why didn’t Natalie tell me this thing gives me a good punch? Was this another of her secrets, trying to prevent me from knowing too much or having too much power?

“What the fuck are you doing?” Freddie cries, checking over his shoulder. He sees the damage and groans. “Oaklyn’s going to kill me…”

Maybe I can smash the window and crawl through. I mean, I’ll probably slice myself open in the process, and I’ll break something when I fall from a moving car, and Freddie will just pull over and stuff me inside again…

I’m so screwed.

Sinking down, I dig into my jacket pockets, my hands numb from the cold and stinging from all the scrapes. An overwhelming wave of relief crashes over me as I close my fingers over my phone.

I can text Natalie.

Better yet…

Trembling, I unlock my phone and share my location with her. Then I put it on Do Not Disturb mode. I don’t need a beep or a buzz to give away my only hope.

My heart pounds, desperation squeezing my chest. As long as Freddie doesn’t come back here and throw my phone away, Natalie will be able to use my location to track us.

“What I find interesting,” Freddie says, “is that you aren’t stopping the car with your mind or chucking boulders in front of us. This tells me you can’t do magic.”

“Of course I can’t do magic,” I snap. Does he not remember how I needed Natalie to save me on New Year’s?

I scan the trunk and the back seats. It’s empty—rubber mats on the floors, nothing to use as a weapon. The grate is between the front and back seats, so there’s nothing stopping me from crawling up to sit properly instead of on the floor… but I don’t want to get any closer to this asshole than I have to, so I stay in the trunk.

Maybe I can smash the lock on the back door with this gauntlet next time we come to a stop.

Then what? Hobble away on a mangled ankle?my inner voice sneers.

“You mean to tell me you’re working for them but they haven’t told you the truth?” Freddie asks.

“They’ve told me plenty,” I say defensively, though myneed-to-knowsituation renders this frustratingly untrue.

We turn a sharp corner, and I brace a hand on the back of the seats, wincing at the pain in my palm. Damn, I got beat up. I don’t even want to look at my ankle, which feels like it’s on fire.

“Are you and Nat… you know… a thing?” Freddie asks. He lingers on me in the rearview mirror, stealing glances at my reactions.

I don’t need the Madsens knowing about my personal life, so I scoff like the idea is ridiculous. “No.”

I scowl out the window as if memorizing every turn will help me understand where he’s taking me.

“So she hasn’t explainedwhyall these items are cursed?” His voice is calm and even.

I bristle. It was one of the first things I asked Natalie. Her response?That’s one question I can’t answer.

“The witches have told me everything I need to know,” I say.

But that frustration lingers in the pit of my stomach. As much as I want to ignore Freddie, the answer hangs suspended in the air between us.

I tear my gaze from the rear door to meet his eyes in the mirror.

He shakes his head. “Katie, your buddies are the ones to put curses on items in the first place.”

I scoff. “Is this your attempt at getting me to join your cause? CSAMM is trying to contain magic, not create more curses—”

“Listen. A curse is meant to deter someone, right? It makes a person want to get rid of the thing causing them harm.” He’s a confusing mix of hardness and softness, like his gentle tone might put me at ease if he hadn’t just shoved me aboard the Kidnap Express.

“Uh-huh. So they’re cursing bags of chips to stop anyone else from eating them?”

“They’re cursing what’s hiding underneath—the power fused to these objects.” Freddie turns onto a quiet residential street, slowing down. His gaze darts from mirror to mirror as he checks whether we’ve been followed.