Scarlett Romero has spent her entire life as an ordinary citizen; going to school, getting a job and definitely not killing people in the middle of the woods on a Friday night.
Until one Friday night, she does.
All she can remember is acting out of...
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Chapter Thirty-Eight "Kylie Jinxes Us"
Scarlett's POV:
I can barely breathe passed the panic lodged in my throat, growing and growing until it's hard to swallow. Alexander pushes us into the corner of the room, flattening us against the wall, arm tense over my chest.
"Can't you pull up an illusion? Like what you did with those guards in the bushland?" Kylie hisses, eyes wide and fixed on me, like if she doesn't look at Quinn then she doesn't exist.
I don't bother responding, trying to settle the thumping of my heart in my chest. I clench my fists, focus flickering back and forth, between moulding the air into a shield and Quinn slowly appearing in the sliding door.
But like me, the air is fickle, and can't concentrate on one thing at a time. It hovers all around me, pulling my hair from its bun and ruffling under my clothes, never solidifying into the illusion I need it to create.
I curse, gritting my teeth and throwing an arm out. The piles of water rattle, and I do my best to ignore the sliding doors that are almost completely open. Quinn isn't facing this way, pacing in front of the tunnel to make sure she wasn't followed.
I clamp my fingers shut, and the water bottles fly over to me. I almost think I've overshot it and they're going to hit me in the face until they stack themselves in front of me, snapping into place like bowling pins.
The last water bottle settles on top of the other, covering the three of us from view just as I hear Quinn's footsteps stalk inside the tunnel. I hold my breath, squeezing my eyes shut as tight as I can, like if I don't look, Quinn won't notice the change in décor.
We don't dare move, so still we could pass as statues. My leg starts to itch, and my hip locks into place, but I put my weight onto the other foot, because I'm not prepared to blow our cover just to scratch an itch.
"Damn Governor!" Quinn spits, and I imagine her face pulled into a taut frown, cheeks an angry red and brows narrowed over her eyes. "I told him it'd be quicker to have me search the forest for those damn freaks! But no, I'm needed here; for what? Signing paperwork and forcing useless officers to do hundreds of push ups?"
I smile tightly, clamping my lips shut to keep the laughter down. Tolkien is one controlling bastard, but I figured Quinn had at least some say in what she does here. Apparently, her title as Head Guard isn't enough for Tolkien to let her make her own decisions.
"And I told him to stop moving those damn water bottles! The foundation of the tunnel could crack, and I don't intend to die in a makeshift avalanche. Plus, they support the loose section of earth in this area."
