Grayson's pulse pounded in his ears as they neared the door, his mind screaming at him in frantic repetition.
This can't happen. I can't let this happen.
There was no plan, no time to think—only instinct.
Before hesitation could creep in, he moved.
With a burst of speed, he lunged forward, throwing his full weight into Detective Crace, slamming his shoulders into the man's ribcage like a battering ram. A sharp oof left the detective's lips as he was sent sprawling to the floor, his head knocking against the tile with a thud.
James was only a breath behind. Without missing a beat, he charged Officer Lane before the man had the chance to reach for his weapon. They crashed backward, the officer stumbling violently into a towering bookshelf. It rocked from the impact before toppling forward, books and knickknacks raining down like a landslide.
The room exploded with noise—grunts, curses, the screech of wood against tile.
"Run!" Grayson yelled, as he grabbed Oz's arm and pulled her toward the back door. Her cuffed hands making it hard to keep her balance. The others followed right behind them as they all ran as fast as they could out the door.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she choked out, her heart pounding.
"Saving your ass!" He shot back, practically dragging her outside.
But he wasn't saving her, it was just a temporary delay. And worse, he was dooming the rest of them right along with her.
Grayson slammed the door shut, kicking an old book shelf down in front of it, buying them a few extra seconds as they sprinted across the backyard. Sirens wailed in the distance—more cops were coming.
"Oh shit, we're all going to jail now," Eric muttered, running a shaky hand over his face.
James cursed under his breath, his eyes darting around their surroundings, searching for anything—any way out. Then his gaze locked onto something at the edge of the dock.
Their old, beat-up fishing boat. Rusted, weather-worn, barely seaworthy.
"There," he pointed.
Jessper skidded to a stop beside him, eyes wide. "Does that thing even work?"
"We're about to find out," Grayson shot back, already mid-sprint toward the boat.
The others didn't hesitate. Footsteps pounded against the wooden dock as they raced toward the vessel, adrenaline drowning out all logic. Behind them, sirens wailed to a halt in the from yard, voices shouting in pursuit.
They were out of time.
Grayson was the first to leap onto the boat, his boots hitting the deck with a thud. He scrambled toward the wheel, fingers fumbling with the ignition as the others piled in behind him.
"Come on, come on," he muttered, twisting the key.
Nothing.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" Eric said cover his face with his hands.
Oz barely heard any of them. Her heart was pounding so hard it drowned out everything else.
"They're coming!" Eric hissed, gripping the railing so hard his knuckles went white.
"Grayson, move!" James shoved him aside and dropped to his knees, yanking open the engine panel. He scanned the mess of wires inside, his mind racing. It wasn't his first time hotwiring something—but a boat?
"Anytime now, James!" Jessper shouted.
"Working on it!" His hands moved fast, stripping wires, twisting them together.
A crackle of static rang out. "Stop right there!"
Oz's stomach lurched. She turned to see two officers at the edge of the dock, weapons raised.
"James—!"
The engine roared to life.
"GO!"James yelled, springing up just as Grayson grabbed the throttle and yanked it forward. The boat lurched, jerking violently as it pulled away from the dock. One of the cops splashing in the water as he attempted to make his way onto the boat but missed.
A gunshot rang out. Wood splintered near Oz's feet.
She gasped, stumbling back, but couldn't catch herself with her hands bound behind her. Jessper grabbed her jerking her forward before she could fall overboard.
"Hold on!" Grayson shouted as the boat surged forward, slicing through the dark waters.
The officers kept yelling, but their voices faded as the shoreline shrank in the distance. The wind howled past them, salt stinging Oz's face as she clutched the railing, her bloodstained hands trembling behind her.
Jessper let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through her hair. "Well... I guess we're all criminals now." Her eyes widened. "My mom is going to kill me,"
There goes my football scholarship," Eric muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, his head in his hands.
James sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "We need a plan. A real one."
Grayson nodded. "First, we need to disappear. Lay low."
"Where do we go?" Jessper asked.
"I don't know, but we need to think fast," James replied nodding toward the growing problem at their feet—a bullet hole in the boat's hull, where water slowly began seeping in. "We've got maybe ten minutes before we're swimming."
"The lighthouse." Oz said quietly. "Where we found the first clue."
James exchanged a glance with Grayson, who gave a tight nod.
"Okay," James exhaled. "Yeah. Good. It's not too far. Let's move."
With that, Grayson cranked the throttle, pushing the dying boat forward toward the only place they had left to run.

YOU ARE READING
The Keys to freedom
Teen FictionFour keys, one treasure, and a lot deadly secrets-who will survive the hunt? Seventeen-year-old twins Oz and James are barely scraping by in their crumbling home on the outskirts of Martha's Vineyard. Their father vanished presumably chasing after t...