Fold

“We're not lovers,” Kit interjects. “I don't swing that way.”

I smirk—her proclamation affirms I've gotten under her skin too—and her scowl deepens.

Kyle rolls his eyes. “Christ almighty, I don't think you people understand the meaning of the words not interested or dead.” He sighs. “Fine, but no fu

When he shoves her forward, her eyes cut through me like a hot knife through butter.

“I owed you one,” I mumble as we exchange places.

She starts to respond, but Kyle holds the gun to my head and we start walking backward until we come to a stop near the elevator. “Call Asher.”

I pull out my phone and press the number for his speed dial.

“I was just about to call you,” Asher says through the speakerphone. “Don't go to Woodside today, there's a shooter on campus and the police called—”

My skull practically vibrates when Kyle hits me with the gun, urging me to talk. “Yeah, I know. Because Kyle Sinclair is currently holding me at gunpoint in the cafeteria.” I look at Kit. “Kit's here too and—” I look at Landon who's silently pleading with me not to say his name.

I wasn't pla

I open my mouth to continue talking to Asher, but then Landon does something peculiar.

He subtly rolls the sleeve of his shirt up, almost like he's trying to communicate some secret message to me.

But the only interpretation I can draw from that action is he's preparing to do some work, which wouldn't make any sense.

Well, either that or he...

Holy fucking jackpot.

Landon has an ace up his sleeve.

“Yeah, that's pretty much the situation right now, brother.”

Asher's breathing turns ragged on the other line before he says, “Kyle, I know you're listening right now. Tell me what you want and I'll make it happen. I'm driving to the campus, I'll be there in less than five minutes. Let Preston and Kit go, they don't deserve this.”

There's muffled crying in the background and a voice that sounds like Breslin's chokes out, “Please, Kyle don't do this. Take me instead.”

“Tell that stupid bitch to shut the fuck up before I make her friend’s murder long and painful instead of quick and painless,” Kyle screams behind me and Kit goes rigid.

“You don't have to kill anyone,” Asher says. “We can work this out, I know we can. Talk to me about what's going on and tell me what you want. I'm listening.”

Kyle laughs maniacally. “You know, I thought killing Breslin would be enough. This way, I could make you both suffer for what you've done. Her for being a dumb trailer whore that took you from me, and you for still being obsessed with a dumb trailer whore when you know how much I love you.”

The irony of him calling someone else obsessed isn't lost on me as he continues, “I hid out in the cafeteria today hoping I'd spot her, because we all know that was Breslin's favorite place to hang out in high school and it was only a matter of time before she'd show up.”

He chuckles. “But then an opportunity presented itself and I thought to myself—Self, there's a better way to make them both pay. I can kill the two people they love the most. This way, you'll both have to live the rest of your lives with the agony of losing someone you love. Then maybe you'll know how I felt, because you'll feel that ache every moment of every day.”

“Kyle,” Asher says calmly. “That doesn't have to happen. I know you're hurting and I know you're upset. I get it. But it doesn't have to be like this, you can still have what you want. I'm standing in the parking lot of my dorm right now. Come and get me. I'm yours.”

“Too late for that now,” Kyle spits. “Do you hear that?”

The sound of sirens in the distance has my heart beating hard in my chest.

We're nearing the end of our rope.

“You had your chance, Asher. I loved you so much, but you blew it. Now it's game over. The only way any of us are coming out is in a body bag.”

Both Asher and Breslin start begging for our lives, which only makes Kyle even more irate and he begins shouting all sorts of vile things to them.

Jesus, this guy has so much rage, so much venom inside him.

Blood whooshes in my ears and the pain that slams into my rib cage is sharp and searing as I recall what I overheard Asher tell the police.

I know exactly why Kyle is the way he is.

The knowledge sits like the weight of a thousand bricks on my chest.

I look at Kit who's so distraught she's no longer paying attention to anything around her, and then at Landon who's focused on Kyle.

I once read some safety article that said if you were ever held hostage you should keep telling your assailant your name and some other things about yourself...because it forces them to acknowledge you're a person and not their pawn.

And while I don't think rambling off a bunch of fun facts will help any of us because Kyle's too far gone, and it will only make him angrier; I do think there's something I can tell him that he might identify with.

But that would require disclosing the one thing I'd rather die than ever tell another soul about. Literally.

My shoulders slump in defeat, because even if it meant saving my life...I can't do it.

The only thing I can do is hope that whatever Landon has up his sleeve will work.

It's probably the only time in my life that I wish I didn't have hope.

Because hope isn't solid, concrete, or tangible.

It's nothing more than an illusion we believe in because we hate our reality.

The goddamn irony of it all.

I walked into this cafeteria today with a heart full of hope and determination, even after my life went to shit...hoping to convince a girl who detests me to take a chance on whatever this thing was between us...whatever she was willing to give me.

But I got far more than I bargained for because it turns out that hope—the magical entity that always lingered deep in my soul, despite all the pain...can be fatal.

Kit Bishop. Her name carries a weight that wasn't there before.

She's the girl responsible for the reason I'm here, and the reason I'm going to die here.

I should hate her for this. Part of me wants to. But it's my fault for letting her impact me in the first place.

Landon's gaze locks with mine again and he turns his head to the left...silently motioning to the elevator that's a few feet away.

The one being held open by a corpse.

I'm pretty sure he's trying to insinuate the elevator is a good way to escape, given the cafeteria doors are all tied with bungees.

I raise an eyebrow at him. Although he's not wrong, I think he's failed to realize Kyle would shoot us before we'd ever make it inside.

It isn't until he looks at Kit who's still a shaking, sobbing mess—then at me again—before his eyes rest on the phone I'm holding up for Kyle...that I co

It might work if Kyle was distracted. But the only way he would be distracted is if one of us attacked him, giving the other two a chance to run.

And the look in Landon's eyes tells me he's already stepped up to the plate.

I shake my head. That's not a motherfucking option. We're all in this together.

He narrows his eyes, but pink hair in my peripheral vision claims my attention.

Kit.

I don't want her to die.