Lock (Rebel #2) by Molly McAdams

Author:Molly McAdams [McAdams, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780998420097
Google: C6l5tAEACAAJ
Amazon: B07HVYTN93
Goodreads: 40311475
Publisher: Jester Creations LLC
Published: 2018-08-29T23:00:00+00:00

Phoenix Nicolasi

“Awesome,” Diggs murmured, sarcasm dripping heavily. “So now our leads are Alex or literally anyone within throwing distance of Brentwood. Or she’s just out getting folders while playing in the wind.”

Today

Einstein

I threw my hands out, slamming them against the walls of the air duct, and inhaled so sharply and suddenly it sounded like an inverted scream.

My heart faltered and then took off in a dead sprint.

So forcefully that I gripped at my chest, trying to keep it from bursting through.

I ached. My lungs, my chest, my throat . . .

I wanted to lay there. To never move again.

It couldn’t have been a minute without oxygen, but it’d felt like hours.

I was worn out in a way I’d never experienced. As though I’d gone ten rounds with Johnny and lost.

But the fear of experiencing that suffocation again had me shifting onto my stomach again and forcing myself forward, one inch at a time.

Pure oxygen blasted me in the face, and I sucked it down greedily.

The taste of metal lingered on my tongue, nagging me. Prodding at the back of my mind. Trying to make me remember . . . understand.

Get out. Get out. Get out.

I have to get out of here.

I followed the faint light at the end of the duct I was in, determined to get wherever it led. Determined to just get out.

As the light grew brighter and brighter, the air blew harder, and something began to change.

The sweet taste in the air.

The way my body slowed and relaxed.

Air shouldn’t taste like anything.

Sweet air.

Metal on my tongue.

My stomach dropped, and my chest heaved against the bottom of the duct. Anger swirled through me but faded just as suddenly as it formed.

Because I felt so at ease. Like nothing could touch me.

When had I started smiling—

Nitrous.

I slammed my hand against the metal and screamed in frustration.

Frustration that swiftly fled my mind and body because I just didn’t have it in me to hold on to my anger.

Not when I couldn’t stop smiling.

Not when I felt so damn good.

That voice in the back of my mind urged harder, louder.

Get out. Get out. Get out.

And I knew she was right.

I knew, I knew, I knew. Because my head was light, and I knew the reason behind it.

I’d been drugged over and over and over today.

At the restaurant.

By the water.

Through the IV.

Through the damned air.

And I didn’t know how much more I could take. My shoulders shook with laughter, but I pulled myself forward until I only had two options.

The giant fan in front of me, which was still blowing tainted air at me, or the large grate above my head.

“It’s been fun,” I murmured to the fan and flipped it off before turning to my back and placing my hands on the grate.

With a slow exhale, I shoved with all the strength I had, cringing when it went flying up, only to come slamming back down.

I stared at the grate above me, mouth wide open. “I’m a superhero.”

Pressing the tips of my fingers to it, I lightly pushed up.

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