Chapter 56
we ran until my lungs burned and the taste of copper filled my mouth. mia was sobbing quietly, while the little boy remained eerily silent, his small fingers digging into my palm. we finally reached the edge of the woods where mark had hidden a dusty sedan under a tarp. my hands shook so violently i could barely get the key into the ignition. as the engine roared to life, the little boy leaned forward from the backseat. "they want the key," he whispered, his voice hoarse from disuse. i glanced at him in the rearview mirror, my heart pounding as we sped onto the dark, empty highway. i asked him what key he was talking about. he slowly unzipped the back of the stuffed bear he had been clutching the entire time and pulled out a small, metallic flash drive. "the one that ruins them," he said, staring blankly out the window.
