Collide Read Online Free Page B

door and my world spins away from me.
    I throw myself from the car, rolling along the hard dirt.
    The black SUV pushes our car into the trees.
    Gunshots ring out around me.

 
     
     
     
     

     
     
    I SCRAMBLE TO MY FEET AND LOOK BACK . Our car is bent at odd angles, wrapped around a tree. Two men in dark suits emerge from the black SUV, guns drawn. There are no signs of life in our car. Everything tells me to run, to follow Mom and Dad’s instructions and find my brother. But I can’t just leave my parents.
    “Get the girl,” one of the men says. “I’ll take care of them.”
    I run into the forest beyond the tree line, crouching down in the thick brush as an imposing figure of a man walks toward me, gun aimed where I hide.
    “Come on out, Dakota. I don’t want to hurt you.” His jaw clenches, his finger twitching on the trigger.
    My senses sharpen. Every sound, every movement, intensifies around me: the steady, rhythmic beat of my pulse as it throbs, the crunch of pine needles as the man walks ever closer, the echo of gunfire signaling my parents’ possible demise. A moment passes and my brain quickly orchestrates the easiest way out. I imagine the gunmen struggling to breathe while the blood supply to their brains is cut off by invisible hands pressing down on the carotid arteries pulsing along their necks.
    Another heartbeat and the large gunman takes a step closer. His face pales as he grabs his throat and drops his gun. His eyes roll back and he passes out on the hard ground. My head swims, my fantasies come to life within that moment.
    I edge out from my hiding spot. Another gunshot rings out above my head.
    “Run, Dakota. Run.” Mom’s voice ends too fast.
    “Mom!” I scream.
    More gunshots.
    Grunts and groans.
    Screams.
    I take a tentative step toward the car. My parents’ voices scream through me, commanding me to run and find Josh. I focus on our car. The other gunman turns and raises the gun toward me.
    Panic seizes my throat. On instinct, I run back into the thicket. Twigs and brambles tear at my skin. My throat begins to tighten. I force air through my lungs, pushing myself harder and harder.
    Until there are no more sounds behind me. Eventually my legs refuse to take another step and I stumble. I grab a small tree and stop, my breath coming too fast as my lungs cramp. Tears overtake my eyes. My mind replays the week’s events: the breakdown and the hospital, my parents’ confession and the gunmen. My knees begin to wobble. A combination of tears and sweat blur my vision. Mom and Dad witnessed a crime. They, we, were in hiding. I’ve put everyone in danger.
    My mind continues to spin as I picture the attack, the blank expression on the gunman’s face as he passed out and the sound of Mom’s scream as it mixed with gunfire. I sink to the ground and my body shakes. They’re dead.
    They’re all dead because of me.

 
     
     
     
     

     
     
    T HE ARCHITECT PACED THE CRAMPED SPACE OF HER ONE-ROOM STUDIO, UNSETTLED . She hadn’t enjoyed killing the doctor as much as she’d thought she would. She’d found no release, no purpose; nothing of what she was assured. She clenched her jaw and her back stiffened with apprehension. No one had honored her kills yet. The Order hadn’t invited her home.
    A few jobs , the Creator promised. Loose ends you need to tie. Then you will join us permanently.
    The Order was formed by the Creator a few years after the accident that tied the Architect to her fate, an organization dedicated to protecting the world from terrorism. The group promised her safety in return for her loyalty, something she was all too willing to give. Before.
    Now, she doubted everything. Each kill proved more difficult. Every day that passed left her more uncertain.
    She needed the Order’s adoration, the Creator’s. More, she needed the chance for vengeance they promised her.
    Unable to clear her head, the Architect walked to the small desk crammed in the corner of her room,