Riley woke up groggily, eyes fluttering open as the ceiling came into focus. A sour twinge of booze lingered on her lips, triggering a foggy swirl of memories she couldn't quite piece together. Her head throbbed. Her mouth felt like it had been scrubbed with cotton and left in the sun.
She turned her head slowly.
On one side of the bed lay Jade. On the other, Jade's boyfriend, Derek.
All of them were naked.
A sinking feeling hit her stomach like a lead weight.
What the hell happened last night?
Trying not to make a sound, Riley gently lifted the blanket and slipped her legs over the edge of the bed. Her jeans and t-shirt were crumpled on the floor, twisted in a heap with Derek's boxers and someone's tank top. She pulled her clothes on quickly—ripped-up jeans and a wrinkled shirt that read Runs with Scissors across the chest. It suited her. Wild. Untamed. Too feral to manage herself, even on a good day.
She tiptoed out of the room, giving them time to wake up without her hovering.
Once in the hallway, she took a deep breath and re-entered a few minutes later. Derek was stirring.
"Hey," she said quietly, kneeling next to him. "I need to use your phone."
Derek groaned and kicked vaguely in her direction without opening his eyes. Useless.
She turned to Jade, nudging her gently.
"Good morning, beautiful," she said with a weak smile. "Can I borrow your phone?"
Jade made a soft noise, reaching blindly to the side and handing Riley something heavy. Her phone.
Riley tried to unlock it, but it was face-locked. She carefully leaned the screen toward Jade's face. It unlocked with a soft click.
Dozens of notifications hit her like a punch to the chest. Texts. Missed calls. Voicemails.
All about her.
She tapped the first message, voice tight in her throat.
"Jade, Riley's dad is on a rampage and he's going to fucking kill people to get her back. Dump that girl before something happens. Call me."
Her stomach turned.
Next message.
"I know you know where my daughter is. If I don't get her back, I'll bring my bat to your boyfriend's house—and it won't be fun for you."
Her brother's laugh echoed faintly in the background, like it was all some kind of twisted game.
Riley's vision narrowed. Her heart raced. Not only was her dad hunting her down—he was threatening Jade and Derek to get to her.
She couldn't let that happen.
She stood quickly, grabbing her hoodie and shoving her feet into her still-damp sneakers. No car. No money. No plan. But she had to disappear. Fast.
She moved to the hallway and waited for Jade and Derek to get dressed. When Derek emerged, groggy and half-dressed, she didn't wait.
"I need a ride," she said. "To the Marathon gas station. On Brower."
Derek squinted. "That's way out."
"I know."
He studied her a moment. "You in some kind of trouble?"
"Not yet. But you might be if I stay."
He said nothing else.
Minutes later, they were in his old red Ford pickup, the kind with rust bleeding along the doors and the smell of stale cigarettes permanently baked into the seats. The bench seat creaked as she climbed in and pulled her hood low over her face.
Derek didn't ask questions. Riley didn't volunteer answers.
While he drove, she pulled out Jade's phone again. No idea where she'd go after this. She just needed to get far enough away to think.
There was one number she hadn't erased—one name she swore she wouldn't call again.
Evan.
She tapped it before she could second-guess herself.
It rang.
And rang.
Then—"Hello?"
"Evan, it's me. Riley."
A pause. Then a shift in his voice. "You okay?"
"No," she said quietly. "Can you meet me at the Marathon off Brower? I need a ride."
Another pause. Then: "Twenty minutes."
She hung up and leaned her head against the cool glass of the window.
Derek glanced over. "Friend?"
"Something like that."
They pulled into the gas station under flickering lights. Derek parked along the side of the building and got out. "Just grabbing water."
Riley stayed in the truck, arms crossed tightly, nerves unraveling. Something didn't feel right. Derek was taking longer than he should. From the corner of her eye, she saw him talking to a pair of guys near the cooler. One of them kept looking her way.
Her skin crawled.
But then—Derek returned.
He climbed into the driver's seat, cracking the water open like nothing was wrong. "We're good," he said flatly.
Riley opened her mouth to respond when she saw something in the side mirror that turned her blood cold.
Her brother.
Storming across the lot with that familiar fury in his step. Right behind him—Savannah, his ever-loyal pitbull of a girlfriend, arms crossed, mouth already going. They hadn't seen Riley yet.
But they had seen the truck.
She dropped into the floorboard, lungs clenching. "They're here," she hissed. "Start the truck!"
"What?" Derek leaned toward the mirror. "Shit."
Her brother was moving faster now—beelining toward them.
Riley scrambled up just enough to throw the gear into reverse. "Move!"
Derek hesitated, just long enough for her to stretch her arm across and slam her palm onto the gas pedal.
The truck jolted back.
Savannah shrieked and jumped out of the way.
Her brother reached the driver's side window and grabbed Derek by the shirt, dragging him halfway out in one swift, brutal pull.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING WITH MY SISTER?!"
"Nothing, man—SHE ASKED FOR A RIDE!"
Riley ducked down again, heart racing as Derek's legs flailed and the truck veered. She reached again for the gas, but Derek's foot hit the brake hard.
The truck skidded to a stop.
Riley's forehead smacked the dash. Her ears rang. Savannah screamed something behind the truck. Her brother was yelling. Derek groaned in pain.
It was chaos. All of it.
And it was her fault.
Riley sat up, opened the passenger door, and stepped out with her hands raised.
"Stop," she said, her voice hoarse. "I'll go."
Everyone froze.
"I'll turn myself in. Just stop."
Her brother released Derek, jaw clenched. Savannah took a step forward, still glaring. Derek slumped back in the seat, blood on his lip and eyes wide.
Riley looked at each of them. "I'm not running anymore."
Her brother stared at her, unsure whether to explode or collapse. She didn't flinch. Didn't blink.
She wasn't free. But she was done hiding.
And that had to be enough—for now.
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