Page 11 of Wanna Play A Game?

My heart starts to race. I type backno.

Unknown: Ah, good girl. I like it when you fight.

My hands shake. I swipe to my call screen.

Ding.

Unknown: I wouldn’t do that, little bunny. If you call anyone, I won’t give you a head start.

My hands shake so hard I drop my phone. What the hell?

I glance around my room, checking for cameras. I don’t see anything. My breath is reduced to short, quick bursts.

I look closer around the room. Wait a damn minute. The dining room chair nearest to the wall looks closer to the table than normal. We never use that chair, and now the indentations on the carpet are visible. It’s been moved.

I sprint to it and climb up. I glare at the ceiling. In the corner, there’s a small black circle, no bigger than a pencil eraser.

Oh my god. It’s a tiny device.

I grip it and yank it down. It was stuck to the wall with a tiny bit of adhesive.

My phone dings from the floor. I ignore it, searching the rest of the apartment. There’s a camera in the kitchen, the office, the bathroom, and two in the bedroom. My chest is heaving by the time I’m done, and I feel sick. I drop all of them in the sink and turn the water on.

When I move to the living room, I’m almost in tears. I snatch up my phone.

Unknown: I see you’ve found some of my toys. They’re not nearly as fun as the ones I normally use.

Unknown: Ticktock, little bunny. Your time has started.

Unknown: Are you ready to run?

Chapter 6

Cali

Adrenaline makes my fingertips numb. Where the hell is it? I’m digging through my closet when my fingers bump into a hard plastic container, and I rip it down.

My gun case.

I nearly cry in relief. Thank god — or Satan — for my conservative, terrified grandparents.

I throw it on the bed and open it. The small Glock sits there, sleek and dangerous. I last shot it six years ago. I wasn’t very good, and I don’t even know if I remember how. My hands shake, and I seat the magazine in it and release the slide with a loud snick.

I lay both that and the small holster on the bed while I try to throw things together. I can’t stay here any longer. I don’t know if this is all some fucked up joke or what, but I just can’t. I throw clothes, toiletries, and my phone charger into my bag.

Halloweiner runs between my legs, meowing continuously. I grab a trash bag and throw his things in it. Fuck, I’m going to have to pack his stuff. Fuck this town, fuck this state, I’m out ofhere. I never wanted to live here anyway. I’ll start over with the meager savings I have. All two hundred bucks of it, but that’s fine. I’ll make it work.

Once my car is packed with the random stuff I can find, I pick up my boy and sit him in the passenger seat. I walk around to the driver’s side and slide in next to him. I need to hit the bank first.

When I turn over the key, nothing happens.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I try again. Nothing. The dash doesn’t even light up. I pop the hood of my trunk and gasp.

There’s a note. I squint in the fading light. “I thought I saidrun.”

Fuck! I open my phone. I hover over the call button, wondering if he has a way to tell what I’m doing. Did he put cameras up outside?