Page 22 of Unwritten Rules (Rules 1)

“What the hell are you doing? Let me go.” I try and remove my arm from his grasp.

“Trust me, you really don’t want me to do that right now,” he says, looking straight ahead.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Whatever you do, do not stop, you hear me?”

“But we could get arrested for running if…”

All it takes is one severe look from Haze to shut me up.

“Winter, they’re not cops, okay? Run.”

That’s when I hear it.

The sound that makes my blood turn cold.

A gunshot.

Haze takes a little side street, distancing us from the frantic crowd. The numerous blisters on my feels make it seem like we’ve been running forever. The streets are empty. Silent. We can still hear the panic from afar, but the sound decreases with every step.

A black car is parked a couple of steps away from us. Haze doesn’t say a word, but his eyes tell me everything I need to know.

“No.” I shake my head.

“Get in the car.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Winter, get in the damn car,” he barks. “Now.”

I look at him, unsure. There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t get in the car. But none of them are as powerful as the fear that infiltrates my entire being when I hear distant footsteps coming our way. I don’t want to stick around and find out who they belong to.

I get into Haze’s sports car and slam the door loudly. It doesn’t even take a second for the vehicle to take off in a roar. I hold on to the leather seats so tight my knuckles turn white. I glance at him from the corner of my eyes, trying to breathe properly. Key word: trying.

He keeps glancing in the rearview mirror as if he’s afraid someone might be following us. I don’t dare speak or move for a good five minutes, unable to fully process what just happened.

“We’re clear,” he finally says.

He seems to relax like a huge weight’s been lifted off his shoulders.

“Who were they?”

He doesn’t answer, not even bothering to look at me.

“This is kidnapping, you know that?”

Like his ability to speak just returned from an unexpected trip, he scoffs. “Not exactly the answer I expected.”

“And what in the world did you expect?”

He looks at me for a brief second. “Oh, I don’t know. Something like ‘thank you for saving my ass, Haze. You’re amazing. To show you my gratitude, I’ll give you a—”

I cut him off. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

He stifles a laugh.

“Listen, I don’t know what you smoked tonight, but my ass is doing very well and doesn’t need your saving, thank you very much.”