Chapter 8: Chapter Six

I heard the squeal of tires in the distance and instinctively turned my head toward the sound.

Vans had always freaked me out, second only to dolls. I didn't know if it was from all the warnings parents gave their kids or too many late-night horror movies, but the sight of that black sprinter van barreling down the street, doors open, made my heart jump into my throat. It had sliding doors on each side, and from the closest one, a man hung out, wearing a black stocking mask and holding a rifle.

Move.I screamed internally.Move!But I froze, fight and flight battling each other, my brain paralyzed in a terror-fueled stalemate. A sharp zing whistled past my ear. Behind me, Jace cried out, followed by Adrian's frantic yell. I turned and saw a dart embedded in Jace's chest as he crumpled to the ground.

The van screeched as it swung around to complete a U-turn, and that snapped me into motion. I turned and bolted down the street, weaving through the crowd.

My feet pounded the pavement as I tore down the street, weaving through the throng of tourists and shoppers that filled the sidewalks. Running through a busy San Francisco street was like trying to sprint through a dense forest. I dodged and sidestepped, narrowly avoiding an old woman laden with bags of vegetables. I twisted my body to avoid colliding with her, but the move threw me off-balance, sending me crashing into a man carrying a massive grape slushy. The drink exploded across my chest, the icy purple liquid soaking into my shirt and sliding down my skin like frozen daggers.

"Hey!" the man shouted, but I didn't stop.

My vision was narrowing, my breath ragged. The van was getting closer again. I could hear it. My legs were burning. I was never an athlete, and sprinting for my life was quickly reminding me of that fact. My lungs felt like they were going to explode, and I could feel my muscles screaming in protest. I knew I was running out of time.

This can't be happening. This can't be real.

The stitch in my side became unbearable, a sharp pain stabbing my ribs with every gasping breath. I had to keep going. I had to keep moving. If they caught me...

I didn't want to finish that thought.

Desperate, I yanked my backpack around to the front, fumbling inside for something—anything—I could use. My fingers closed around a can of Cherry Coke, and without a second thought, I spun and hurled it over my shoulder with all the strength I had left.

The can hit one of the men dead in the face with a sickening crack. His body lurched backward as he tumbled out of the van and hit the ground hard. I didn't even have time to celebrate.

Did I actually just do that?

The van skidded, slowing down to pick up the man I'd knocked off, and for a brief moment, hope flickered inside me. I turned down a side alley, but the sound of a growling engine made me whip around in fear.

But it wasn't them. It was Adrian.

He roared into the alley on a sleek black and gold motorcycle, his face tense but determined. I blinked, trying to make sense of the situation.

Adrian?

What—why?

Was he here to save me or finish what he started? I couldn't tell anymore.

He tossed a helmet to me, barking out, "Get on, Matt!"

I hesitated for half a second, my mind whirling with questions. Why would Adrian help me? We're not even friends anymore. This doesn't make any sense.

But I didn't have time to figure it out. The van was coming back. Without thinking, I jumped onto the back of his bike, jamming the helmet onto my head just as Adrian hit the throttle. The force of the acceleration nearly threw me off. I grabbed onto his waist, my heart racing for entirely new reasons.

What is happening?

As we sped out of the alley, my backpack fell from my shoulder, the yellow box from Mike spilling out. I snatched it up, staring at it in disbelief.

Another trap.

I threw the box as far as I could.

An icy shiver ran down my spine, like someone had poured snow directly into my veins.

What was that?

Suddenly, pain shot through my body, causing me to arch away from him as I convulsed from the agony.

"What are you doing, moron? Hold on!" Adrian shouted as he weaved through the narrow alley.

I pressed myself closer to him, my body trembling. Pain rippled through me, twisting my muscles. My joints burned, and my skin felt like it was tearing from the inside. I screeched from it, my arms convulsing as I clutched his shoulders. "Ouch, Matt!" Adrian's voice was tight. "Watch out, you're about to break my shoulders!"

I gasped, my voice higher, thinner than it should have been. My body felt wrong, unfamiliar. As we roared through the side street, I glanced down and groaned. It was happening—I was changing.

No. No, not now.

The change was early. My mother had promised it would happen today, but not like this—not in the middle of a chase. I remembered the agony of the first change four years ago. I had felt like I would die.

But this? This was so much worse. This was like a million whips trying to flay all my skin away. It was like my body was filled with fire ants, trying to turn every muscle into liquid. I felt tears running down my face as I struggled not to sob.

We turned a sharp corner, tires screeching, and the van caught up to us again, pacing beside us. Two men leaned out, arms extended, trying to grab me. "Adrian, turn left!" I screamed.

Adrian yanked the bike left, but the sudden turn was too sharp. The tires lost grip, and we both went flying. Adrian skidded across the sidewalk, smashing into a plate-glass window with a sickening crash. I landed hard on my side, pain exploding through my ribs as my skin felt like it was being ripped apart.

"Adrian!" I cried, struggling to get up. My body felt too small and too big at the same time, every movement sending shocks of pain through my bones. Adrian lay motionless in a pool of glass and blood, and I panicked, trying to crawl toward him.

Adrian shouldn't have been like this. He shouldn't have helped me. He should have stayed far away from Madeline Thomas, and I was afraid I'd never be able to tell him what a fool he'd been to come and confront me.

Before I could reach him, strong arms yanked me up from behind and dragged me toward the van.

"No! Adrian!" I thrashed and kicked, my body still convulsing with the transformation. My limbs burned, and my skin stretched painfully as my body continued to shift, bend and twist, reshaping itself. My voice broke, higher than it should be. The man holding me grunted, struggling to keep his grip.

I swung my head back and connected with his chin, hard. He cursed, but another set of hands grabbed me, pulling me into the van. I kicked, bucked, and screamed, the pain from the change intensifying with each second. I could feel my hair growing, spilling into my face—long and yellow, as bright as a daffodil, the way it had been before. It obscured my vision in my helmet, and strands of it got caught between my teeth.

My captors tore the helmet from my head, and I spit hair from my mouth, glaring at them. "Let me go!"

But the sight inside the van froze me.

Adrian wasn't the only one they had. Luis and Dom were there too, unconscious and bound.

No. Not them too. They should have been waiting at Bertha's. How were they here? How could the men have found them?

I had an idle thought that this might be because of Franco. With his connections, it could be possible.

"Luis! Dom!" I screamed, struggling harder, but the man holding me laughed, easily pinning me down. His grip was iron, and despite my best efforts, I couldn't free myself. My body was still changing, pain twisting through every muscle, making it hard to focus.

After the man constraining me held me tighter to prevent me from going to my friend, he laughed and tutted as I tried to bite him. Finally, the driver reached towards me and put a cloth over my mouth and nose.

While I struggled against the cloying smell and the sweet taste, I smacked at his hand and scratched it, digging my nails viciously into his flesh. He cursed and dropped his hand away. But, I found he'd already won as my eyes fought against the desire to close.

Wave after wave of dizziness overtook me, and my world narrowed until I could see no more. Nausea clutched at my stomach and spilled the contents of it onto the floor of the van. After that, my three captors made cries of dismay.

"Dang it! We have miles to drive!"

The last thing I saw before I passed out was my reflection in the van's window—my long daffodil-yellow hair, the face of the girl I used to be, staring back at me.