Expiration Date (Books 1 and 2)

66 Cowboys

Iris~~

Erik has a safe house in Las Vegas. If we had driven straight there, we would have been there before we ate lunch. Erik wanted to make sure he ditched anyone who might have been following us, so he went the long . . . extremely long way.

The sun sets over the desert. A few minutes ago, Erik said we had at least another half hour, but honestly, we're in the middle of nowhere. The truck behind is the only thing that lets me know we aren't in the middle of nowhere and lost.

I don't know how Erik is still driving. If I could drive, I would have taken over long ago, but there's no way I would be able to go at least seventy. I'd be lucky to feel comfortable going forty-five.

Erik's going ninety.

We were only planning to stay at that hotel until midnight, but Colton and Jae-yeon somehow found us. I run my fingers over the scab on my neck—I was this close to dying. The fact I can feel it on my neck leaves my fingers trembling.

"Why did Colton call you manipulative?"

Erik shrugs.

"Erik, please."

A gunshot cracks, and our car swerves off the road. I hold onto my seat and squeeze my eyes shut as the car spins.

Once, I feel the car settle, I crack open my eyes, my heart pounding. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." His breaths are heavy.

I twist in my seat to see the truck where the gunshot must have come from. It's stopped, and three men approach our car, rifles in hand, and—wait. Are those cowboy hats?

Erik reaches for the console where I know he's keeping two guns.

I place my hand over his. "A shootout isn't the greatest idea if I want to wake up tomorrow."

He gives me an annoyed look. "Of course, my dear."

I pull my hand away and press myself into my seat. This isn't the Society. There is no way any of them would be caught wearing a cowboy hat. So rebels?

As they get closer, I can see they're in jeans and plaid shirts: one green, one blue, one red.

Okay, so cowboys?

"Don't provoke them."

Erik looks offended. "Why would I provoke them?"

"You tend to provoke people."

"Fine. I'll be polite to the people who are coming toward us with guns."

The man with the red shirt taps on Erik's window.

Pressing his lips into a straight line, Erik rolls down the window. "Can I help you?"

"Out of the car, Blackwood." He knows who Erik is.

He knows who Erik is.

Well, of course, he knows who Erik is.

They shot out our tire for a reason. A brand-new tire at that.

Erik and I step out of the car, hands behind our heads. The man in the green shirt motions with his rifle for me to come around to the other side of the car.

"Some of us saw you at the gas station awhile back," red-shirt guy says. "What are you doing in our territory?"

"Oh, your territory?" Did Erik not listen to one word I said?

Blue-shirt guy pops his shoulder. "That's right, Tresais. What are you doing so far from home?"

"I thought I'd get out and do a bit of traveling across my country."

Erik, please.

"Who's this?" The man in the green shirt nudges the rifle into my ribs. "I've never seen her before."

"R," the man in the red shirt grumbles, and my mind becomes even more alert. R. He's from an orphanage. "Be careful with that gun. We don't want another accident."

R lowers the gun, a sheepish look on his face. I look up at the sky, bright in pinks and oranges, and try not to show how uncomfortable his statement leaves me. I don't know what this accident entailed, but it could mean R has a twitchy finger. "Sorry, Auura."

Auura runs his eyes over me. "Who are you?"

"My name's Iris."

"I've never heard of an Iris in the Society. Is he your boyfriend?"

"No, he's . . . he's my friend." Steeling my nerves, I turn my head to look at the orphan. "R, did your orphanage train rebels like mine did?"

All three men go on the offensive, aiming their guns at me.

"Who are you really?" R demands. "What's your last name?"

"Does that matter? I'm an orphan."

"What you said doesn't matter." R's cheek twitches. "It's public knowledge that some orphanages train rebels. So, who are you?"

"I grew up in the orphanage that the Society burnt down in Maryland. My last name is Levine."

The men exchange looks.

"Are you trying to be funny?" the guy in the green shirt asks.

"No. I don't think I am."

Auura signals to the other two men. "All right, get them in the back of the truck."

My stomach drops. We were so close to Erik's house.

R and green-shirt guy nudge us along with their guns as if R has already forgotten about his potentially twitchy finger and make us climb up in the bed of their shiny red truck.

Auura drives, heading in the direction we had been coming from, while R and the other man ride with us in the back. Erik and I sit across from each other, our knees bent and our wrists tied with rope.

Auura turns the truck off the main road and onto a sand one that causes my body to shift about with the bumps, and I'm helpless to steady myself. If only one rebel at their base grew up with me, I'll be in the clear. Unless Y or Eun-seob contacted them and told them what happened in West Virginia.

I'm screwed. So screwed.

The stars are out when the truck stops in front of RVs. Not the intimidating rebel base I was expecting. I tilt my head back. The stars twinkle, and I can see that night on the roof at the Society divinely—Jonas looking at me like I was more beautiful than the stars, like he could have stared at me forever and he would have been perfectly happy. At least that's what I was thinking of him. Seeing it through the lens of a memory, I know if I had been allowed to stay in that moment for the rest of my life, I could have been incandescently happy.

Auura lowers the tailgate, and Erik and I are forced to hop down. R grabs hold of my arm, while green-shirt guy grabs Erik's. Auura marches ahead of us toward the RVs. They're set up in a horseshoe pattern. String lights are draped between trailers, and in the middle of the clearing is a campfire where people are gathered around. Some 80s song plays over a radio.

We pass by a small pond where a frog ribbets at us before jumping into the water with a soft plink.

Auura tells us to stop when we're a few feet from the gathering. He approaches a tall man facing the campfire. Clearing his throat, Auura straightens. "Mr. Levine, there are some people we need you to meet."