Page 126 of The Writer He Haunted

“I’ll find you. Run. Now. Stay low, stay hidden until you hearme. Do you understand me? Do not do something stupid like thinking they’ll be anything like me. Just hide and wait.”

Fear flooded through me, instinct had me grabbing his hand. “Everett,” I said, unsure what else I could say. I didn’t want to go in there alone. I didn’t want to fucking die alone in the woods. I wasn’t just some body. I didn’t want to be shot by his enemies, forgotten forever, my body buried here, my soul lost. Because that’s what would happen. He would leave me here alone, forget about me by tomorrow. I would just be some casualty of a war I knew nothing about.

I didn’t want that.

I didn’t want to be a blip. I couldn’t be a blip.

His eyes flicked to my lips and back. “Olivia,” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Run. I will find you. You have my word.”

My eyes filled with tears because I wanted to trust him, I did, but I didn’t know if I could. I couldn’t tell. I trusted Steven in the beginning and look where that got me. I had trusted mom. I wasn’t a good judge of trust, but what choice did I have?

Another bullet whizzed by us, hitting the ground a foot to my left, causing me to jump, a few tears falling.

I glanced at the puff of dust before turning to him, shaking my head, pleading for him not to leave me here to die. “Please,” I pleaded.

He shoved the gun into my hand and grabbed my jaw, his eyes wild. “I give you my word,” he said, enunciating each word.

His word. Unbreakable to those with honor. Unbreakable to those who put loyalty and respect above life.

I had to believe him. I had to trust him, I didn’t have a choice.

So, against all reasoning, against every ounce of rationality, I released his hand, turned, and sprinted for the trees.