Hunted

Chapter Seven

Elmwood, South Carolina

Raven's Team

"They're shooting!"

Sang's scream fell flat in the air before the car burst into motion. Flying through a sharp curve in the road, the phone slid off the console with the force Raven exerted against the accelerator. With a muted curse, Corey fumbled to catch it before it dropped between the seats— too worried about this newest revelation to care about Raven's mounting speed.

Brandon held no such reservations, grunting as the car jumped a dirt side curb, "Christ!" 

"They're shooting?" Gabriel repeated incredulously, throwing himself over the central console to bark into the phone, "Who the fuck— Why the fuck are they shooting?"

"Sang!" Corey shoved a palm against the younger teen's face, forcing him out of the way as he scrambled to keep his hold on the phone, "Where are you?!"

There was no answer other than the earsplitting shriek of wheels grinding against pavement and for the briefest moment, Gabriel's heart dropped. He needed her to answer— right the fuck now. Raven cursed as he twisted the car into a sharp turn, dark eyes scanning over the area as if they wayward bird would pop out of the shadows.

"I'm okay!" The bird answered, only to squeak out, "Crap— I think!"

Corey's shoulders visibly tightened; a feeling Gabriel knew all too well. Jesus fucking Christ. He was going to go grey before he was twenty-fucking-five. He wasn't built for this kind of stressful shit— the girl couldn't fucking drive and here she was, reliving Fast and the Fucking Furious in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

Next thing he'd know they'd stumble into fucking Deliverance.

Have cut Luke a look as he scooted forward, one hand braced against the back of Raven's chair before the blonde managed to offer, "This is big— bigger than we thought it was."

"No shit!" Brandon snapped, trying to find his balance in the speeding car. One hand was firmly pressed against the window, "She still talking?"

That was the question of the fucking hour. Biting against the soft skin of his cheek, Gabriel stared at the little glass screen that held their only connection to the missing bird. God, where the fuck was she?

There was another squeal, this time more mechanical, "I'm okay—" the car squealed again as she amended, "They're trying to shoot out the tires— Son of a biscuit!"

God, if it wasn't such a shit show already, Gabe would have laughed. Instead, he only felt panic skitter up his spine.

He wasn't the only one. With a muttered curse, Luke snagged his phone out of his pants and pressed an all too familiar red button. There was a sharp pain against his thigh, but Gabriel ignored it as he snarled, ripping his fingers through his hair. Fuck, what the fucking hell. Who the hell did the little bird piss off? The damn mafia?

"Drive in zip zap," Raven commanded over the noise of the receiver, eyes flicking briefly toward the phone, "Turn off lights too, little bird."

"Zigzag," Corey corrected out of habit, his stare never straying from the phone in his hands, "Did you hear Raven, Sang? Can you do that?"

"Yes!" She snapped, a little bit of fire bleeding into her voice, "I'm trying! They're being so—" there was a huff of frustrated air followed by the sound of metal pinging against glass, "They're being annoying."

Gabriel wanted to laugh about as much as he wanted to fucking cry. Who the hell thinks like that? The bird's in the middle of a damn high-speed chase and the worst she could come up with was annoying?