Alna came to slowly––something she was rather unaccustomed to. The first thing she registered, before even opening her eyes, was gameplay music––originating from a phone, it seemed. The second thing she noticed was a sharp pain in her leg, the feeling foreign and invasive in its origin. The scent of smoke reached her, making Alna’s nose twitch.

Opening her eyes, Alna’s heart almost stopped as she turned her head to check on Marianna. The other girl was slumped against her airbag, a cut above her eyebrow weeping crimson blood. Her face looked relaxed, eyelashes resting against her cheeks. But she was breathing, Alna noted with relief, taking in the way Marianna’s chest moved with every breath. The most concerning thing was Marianna’s left arm. Somehow, a piece of jagged metal had curved inward enough to jam itself into the shoulder area, pulling Marianna’s arm back at an awkward angle.

From this angle, it was difficult to see much more, but what she could see was far from encouraging. The arm of the blue, long-sleeved sweater Marianna was wearing was already becoming stained with blood, making its way toward her exposed collarbone.

Alna’s stomach lurched. Marianna couldn’t receive a permanent injury. She couldn’t. Alna would never forgive herself.

It was with great difficulty that Alna pulled her gaze away from Marianna long enough to survey the rest of the truck. Looking down at the dashboard, Alna spotted Marianna’s dark purple purse, which had landed near her thigh. Alna’s laptop bag was still at her feet.

Alna could almost feel the piercing gaze drilling into her.

“Oh, yay,” a feminine voice exclaimed to Alna’s right. As she turned toward the source of the voice, Alna was only vaguely surprised to come face to face with Harlow Ashworth; otherwise known as Emile Cope’s parole officer.

“You’re awake,” Ashworth continued, beaming at her as she leaned down to look at Alna. “That’s good. You’ve been out for, like, ten minutes.” The woman had the audacity to sound put out by this, even pouting a bit. “We thought we were gonna have to––”

“Thank fucking God,” a male voice interrupted in a growl. The smile slid from Ashworth’s face, her jaw tightening and lips pursing. Her expression wouldn’t have looked out of place on a lioness. “I thought we were gonna have to wait for an hour or something.” Emile Cope appeared from behind some empty shelves, looking annoyed as he attempted to wipe the dust off his jacket. From behind, Alna heard Marianna groan.

Without warning, Ashworth straightened and whipped around, striding toward Cope with purpose. Her hand cracked across his face with enough force to snap his head to the side.

As Alna assessed their surroundings, Ashworth said, “Do. Not. Interrupt me. Ever. Capisce?”

They were in the gas station she saw earlier. There was a large, gaping hole where the truck had barrelled in, leaving behind a small pile of debris, although it was unlikely anyone would care that much. With the dust that covered every shelf in sight, it was apparent this gas station hadn’t been used in years. Old pop and beer cans lay around the station, gathering dust.

“Whoa, okay. Jeesh, calm down, woman.”

Alna looked at her leg, leaning enough to see past the airbag. A piece of metal had curved inward, digging into her shin and leaving behind a small cut. Some debris had fallen into the truck, preventing Alna from moving her leg backward. Impossible to move without creating further damage.

As Alna turned to Marianna, whose eyes were now wide open with undisguised fear, she heard another crack.

“Don’t you ever tell me what to do.”

Alna flicked her gaze down to Marianna’s purse, then met her eyes once more. She mouthed the word “phone.” Marianna’s eyes widened once more, and she gave Alna the slightest nod before staring past her.

“Sorry about him,” Ashworth addressed them.

Alna turned to face her again. Now that Alna took the time to look at her more carefully, it was impossible not to notice the outline of a handgun underneath her shirt, held in place by a black belt with a shiny silver buckle. Clipped to that belt, at Ashworth’s left hip, was a remote, more sophisticated than any remote that could be bought in an average store. With its various knobs and dials, and its little joystick, Alna very little doubt what its purpose was: remote controlling the very truck she and Marianna were currently trapped in. Marianna had texted to say she needed to pick the truck up. If it had been at a repair shop, perhaps Ashworth found a way to access it...

Ashworth braced a hand on the now misshapen roof of the truck and leaned in uncomfortably close, her white teeth flashing as she grinned. “He’s a bit of a moron,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, as if they were in on some secret.

Alna gave Ashworth an unimpressed look. “I’m sure he’s forgiven.”

Ashworth blinked at that and straightened up to throw her head back as she let out an amused laugh. “Ooh, I like you,” she giggled, pressing a hand to her mouth and pushing strawberry blonde bangs out of her eyes. “And look, blondie’s up, too. Now we can start the party.”

The quiet shuffling behind Alna died a quick death as Marianna froze. Alna’s heart rate spiked. She hoped Ashworth hadn’t noticed anything.

To her credit, Marianna made a valiant effort to distract Cope and Ashworth from what she had just been doing. “Ms. Ashworth,” she said in a wavering voice. “I didn’t…expect…” She trailed off, and Ashworth gave her a bright smile. Alna found herself a bit disturbed that she seemed so sane.

“You didn’t expect it to be me?” she asked, as though they were talking about a surprise birthday party. “I don’t blame you; that was the intention.”

“Was it, now?” Alna interrupted, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she attempted to keep the woman’s attention away from Marianna. “I never would have guessed.”

Ashworth’s eyes lit up with almost childlike glee. She raised a hand to her mouth, presumably to muffle yet another laugh. Instead, her face scrunched up and she coughed, her brown eyes watering.

“Blasted smoke,” she grumbled, referring to the black smoke rising from the destroyed truck. At least it didn’t look like it was going to catch fire or explode. Small blessings, Alna supposed.

Keeping watch on Ashworth out of the corner of her eye, Alna once again turned to assess the damage to her trapped leg. The metal point had buried itself deeply into her flesh about halfway down her leg, causing a dark red stain to appear on her jeans.

“Doesn’t bother me,” Cope commented. Out of the corner of her left eye, Alna saw Marianna ease open the zipper of her purse.

“That’s because you’re, like, a fucking chain-smoker. God,” Ashworth snapped. “Moron.”

When Alna heard the quiet rustling resume next to her, she solidified her earlier plan: keep Ashworth talking and keep her attention away from Marianna at all costs.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Alna started, shifting to block Marianna from view, aided by her airbag. “Why, exactly, have you been killing random people?”

Ashworth’s eyes shifted to focus on Alna’s face. She smiled once more, looking entertained. “Blunt. I like it.” She clapped her hands once in delight, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’m so glad I did this––all the other ways I’ve killed people were so impersonal. This, though––this is so fun.”

Suddenly, she turned serious. Ashworth stepped closer and ducked her head to peer inside the truck. Marianna’s movements stilled once more.

“You’re trying to distract me,” Ashworth said, sounding thoughtful. Her eyes swept around the interior of the truck, and Alna knew exactly what she was seeing: two girls, one who had her arm pinned down by a stray piece of metal, the other with her leg thoroughly trapped. Helpless and in way over their heads.

The amusement returned in Ashworth’s eyes. She pulled the pistol from underneath her shirt and twirled it around her finger. “Nice try,” she said. Alna stared at the gun, and Marianna drew in a startled breath.

The way Ashworth handled the gun––carelessly but with utter self-assurance––led Alna to conclude that she knew how to use it properly. This did not bode well.

“Of course,” Ashworth sighed, sounding both put out and thoughtful, “the smart thing would be to kill you both now, but that’s so boring.”

As the quiet rustling resumed behind Alna, Cope muttered something about not dragging this out forever. Ashworth tensed, but only gave the man a disdainful glare over her shoulder.

“Oh, by all means,” Alna drawled, bringing Ashworth’s curious eyes back to her. “Tell us all about your brilliant and evil plan. I’m sure it is both fascinating and original.”

“Well,” said Ashworth, bracing a hand on the truck, expression serious. “It all started when the love of my life broke my heart.” Tears filled her eyes and for half a second, Alna believed the woman’s performance. Until she realized the tears were not born from grief, but mirth.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

To confirm her suspicion, Ashworth released her grip as she all but doubled up in laughter.

“Oh, my God,” Ashworth gasped out, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. “I had you for a moment there. Your face!” she crowed. “Oh, my God.” Her giggles continued for another fifteen seconds, in which time Alna stole another glance at Marianna.

Marianna’s face was devoid of its normal healthy flush, causing her terrified eyes to appear twice as large, and freckles to appear on her nose and cheeks. However, despite her obvious fear, Marianna seemed to compose herself somewhat under Alna’s concerned gaze, and she shifted her phone so that Alna could see the screen. The numbers nine-one-one glowed at the top of the screen, and underneath it, a second set of numbers said the call had been going on for over five seconds.

Alna nodded at Marianna once and tried to give her a reassuring smile. She wasn’t too sure she succeeded.

She turned around just in time for Ashworth to regain her composure somewhat. The woman looked as if she’d never been more entertained in her life.

Alna’s eyes flicked up and down Ashworth’s form as she continued to talk. She wore a simple, grey button-down shirt, paired a black jacket and skinny black pants. Besides the obvious gun in her and at the remote on her belt, Ashworth had nothing on her that was all that distinctive, making it difficult to glean any information.

“Would you believe it if I told you I don’t have that much time for romance?” Ashworth asked conversationally. She twirled the gun once more, causing Alna to instinctively tense and Marianna to draw in a sharp breath. “Not with all the, you know, killing.” She made a vague gesture with her gun hand.

Alna wished she would stop doing that. She consoled herself with the knowledge that the police were likely listening right now––or someone important, at the very least.

“No, as fun as it can be to have a man around every once in a while, relationships get tiring.”

Behind Ashworth, Cope made a displeased sound, but stayed silent.

“And,” Ashworth continued. For a moment, Alna felt a surge of annoyance at having to listen to “villain monologue,” but reminded herself it was a good thing. “As funny as it is to see the police tripping over themselves to figure out ‘unsolvable’ cases, I thought it would be interesting to see if they could even figure out the difference between accidents and murders staged to look as such.” Ashworth frowned, using her pistol to push a lock of hair away from her face. The woman either had mental issues or was secure in the knowledge that she had the upper hand. “I have to say, I was a bit disappointed.”

“As fascinating as this is,” Alna said, trying to lounge back against her seat with confidence she didn’t feel, “what I would like to know is why, exactly, we’re here.”

Ashworth tilted her head in a curious manner. “Because it’s fun,” she explained, as if the answer should have been obvious. To be fair, she had said as much earlier. “I mean, not that all the other times weren’t fun or anything, but this is much more fascinating. It’s more personal.”

As if to prove her point, Ashworth stopped fiddling with her gun and pointed it at Alna’s head. Alna tensed; Marianna’s breathing stuttered.

“Now, now.” Alna cursed the tremor in her voice. “Let’s not be hasty.” Alna’s mind was in overdrive. If they were lucky, they had about ten minutes before the police showed up. More, if traffic was uncooperative. If Alna could keep Ashworth entertained until then… But that still left the gun––or, rather, guns, as Cope appeared to have one as well.

Why had Alna demanded Marianna leave school? Why hadn’t she seen this sooner? How could she be so stupid?

Keep Marianna alive, Alna told herself. That was the top priority. Her own life was subsidiarity. Ensuring Cope and Ashworth were arrested was a close third.

“Ooh, such official language,” Ashworth cooed, her voice both teasing and mocking at the same time. She allowed her gun arm to fall, the pistol slapping against her thigh. Alna jumped.

Once more, Ashworth invaded Alna’s personal space, forcing eye contact. If Alna could use the element of surprise––lunge forward and dig her thumbs into the woman’s eye sockets–– That still left Cope and his gun. Not to mention Alna’s trapped leg.

Ashworth’s eyes narrowed dangerously, sweeping over the two girls once more. Her gaze returned to Alna after a moment, as she seemed to consider Marianna unimportant. Wonderful. Alna would revel in proving her wrong.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you, honey?”

Alna’s jaw locked at the term of endearment. It took all her willpower to hold back a biting retort. Hearing the nickname that her parents addressed her by in the past was the last thing she wanted to hear from this woman’s lips.

In the time those thoughts flashed through Alna’s head, Ashworth’s lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk.

“You are, really,” Ashworth continued, sounding almost earnest. “Much smarter than those cops, anyway. Not to mention Evie. God, that woman was an idiot.” Ashworth’s brows drew together in a clear sign of frustration.

Alna cocked an eyebrow.

“Is that why your henchman”––she nodded to Cope––”killed her?”

If things were going according to plan, someone was listening this very instant. Any confession would be beneficial.

Again, that searching look appeared on Ashworth's face before she gave Alna an easy smile. The faux familiarity was getting on Alna's nerves.

“Like I said”––Ashworth dropped her eyes to inspect her gun––”the woman was a complete idiot. I mean, I did leave some clues behind for the morons, but she wasn’t supposed to leave outright evidence, for God's sake.” Her hands tightened on the pistol. Alna's muscles bunched up once more.

Alna parted her lips, intending to fire more questions at the madwoman, but found herself interrupted. By Emile Cope.

“For fuck's sake,” the henchman growled, slamming down an aged pop can he'd been looking at. “How much longer is this goddamn thing gonna take?” Cope advanced on his employer from behind, reaching out to grab her arm. “Just kill the bitches already and get it over with. Or”––here Cope’s voice turned patronizingly sweet––“do you want me to do it for you?”

Alna wasn't ashamed to admit that she leaned away at that. Because, while Cope did undoubtedly pose a threat, it was Ashworth who Alna's instincts told her she was the one to be feared.

Ashworth had gone still once Cope intruded for a second time. Her eyes narrowed and Alna could easily picture her with the eyes of a cat––slitted pupils and a predatory expression. Ashworth smiled, the tightness around her mouth suggesting anger.

“How many times,” she said with gritted teeth, “do I have to tell you to shut. The hell. Up?”

Again that look appeared on her face: dangerous and predatory.

Alna had half a second of warning (saw the muscles in her arms flex) before Ashworth twisted around, freeing herself from Cope's grip. Simultaneously, she brought her knee up and jammed it in Cope's groin.

This was her chance. Keeping the duo in her peripheral vision, Alna turned and shoved at the airbag to better see her trapped leg. With her right hand, she undid her seatbelt.

“I am so fucking sick of you,” Ashworth said as Alna attempted to shift her leg to the right. She stopped as pain shot up her calf, drawing in a short breath. That wasn’t going to work.

A brief glance revealed Ashworth, her left hand gripping Cope’s arm, jabbing her gun under the man’s chin. He raised his hands in the universal gesture of surrender, looking wary. Alna pulled her leg toward her, lengthening the cut on her leg and causing the bleeding to increase.

“I hired you for one job, and let me tell you, it wasn’t to backtalk and treat me like a moron,” Ashworth continued. The leg of Alna’s jeans, having already been wet with blood, was well on its way to becoming soaked. She could almost swear she felt the sharp edge of the metal scraping against bone. Her jaw clenched so much it ached.

“I keep you out of jail and what do I get in return? A fucking idiot who insists on acting like he’s the king.”

Alna didn’t mean to pause in her task, but Ashworth’s words caught her attention. She stared at the woman’s back for perhaps ten seconds. Ashworth was the reason Cope had gotten out of jail? Or, more specifically, she was working to prevent him from ending up there again. The parole officer guise continued to look more and more clever.

Why couldn’t she seem to read anything on their persons?

“Alna,” Marianna called in a soft, worried voice as Alna returned her attention to attempting to free her leg. She turned to her girlfriend and attempted to shoot Marianna another reassuring smile that she was certain came out as more of a pained grimace.

“Trust me,” she said, blue meeting blue as they locked eyes. Marianna, wide-eyed and almost waxen with terror, gave her a small nod.

As Ashworth continued to threaten Cope (at one point even grabbing his gun and throwing it aside), Alna gripped her knee in both hands and forced it toward her. More pain. More blood. But it was working. Another half an inch and she’d be free.

Clenching her jaw, Alna jerked her leg one final time, nearly clipping her chin with her knee. And wouldn’t that be comical? she thought dryly. No matter. She was free now. Just in time, too, as it appeared Ashworth was winding down from her rant.

Alna bent her knees under herself, ignoring the lightheadedness that had begun about a minute ago. Despite herself, as Alna hoisted herself out of the passenger window, cutting her palms, she couldn’t help but try to calculate how much blood she had lost. She didn't like the answer she came up with.

Cope’s eyes slid to her just as Alna’s feet touched the ground. He only had enough time to utter a few syllables before Alna darted up behind Ashworth, who had finished her rant and was already turning away. Using every bit of her strength, Alna shoved Ashworth forward. The woman, having not expected the action, stumbled forward, crashing into Cope. And then everything was a blur of motion.

Alna threw herself to the left, already expecting the bullet that flew past her. As her body slammed to the ground, Alna rolled, desperately attempting to reach Cope’s discarded gun. Cope stepped on her wrist, crushing it under his weight.

Letting out a small cry, Alna retained enough mental clarity to aim her foot at Cope’s crotch, making contact as a bullet buried itself in her arm. This time Alna felt her back arch as she let out a strangled sound of pain, her vision beginning to fill with black dots.

Cope let out a stream of expletives. Alna reached, eyes opened to mere slits, and grabbed at Ashworth’s ankle, only to receive a harsh kick for her efforts. She had to keep distracting them, Alna thought frantically, trying to sit up. It only took a slight shove from Cope to have her collapse again.

Her body pulsed, pain rippling through her with every beat of her heart. How much blood had she lost?

She had to keep them distracted. Had to… And yet she was too weak to do anything. Alna panted, turning her head and scanning her surroundings for any potential weapons. The gun was gone, no doubt retrieved by Cope or Ashworth.

“Jesus, you’re a tricky one, aren’t you?” Ashworth mused aloud, sounding breathless. Annoyance laced her voice. “I’ve had enough of this.” Alna heard a bullet click into place. She turned her head and watched the gun being pointed at her head. “Emile, sweetie, I don’t want to hear any ‘I told you so’s’ from you or I will put a bullet in you.”

Ashworth’s finger flexed on the trigger. Alna’s heart pounded, blood roaring in her ears as the adrenaline faded away. Her lips parted as Alna tried to think of something to say, something to distract the woman just a little while longer…

Ashworth’s head snapped up as sirens pierced the air, the gun jerking with her. Without warning, the pistol fired and Alna screamed as pain flared in her stomach, right where the bullet had lodged itself.

Red and blue lights flashed as the black dots overtook her vision.

“Alna!”