Chapter 57

• Jake****
• The motel room was a war zone, the acrid scent of gunpowder thick in the air. Smoke coiled in lazy tendrils from the barrel of Belle’s gun, her chest rising and falling in sharp, measured breaths. The dead man at her feet was just the first casualty in what was about to become an all-out slaughter.
• We didn’t wait for the next wave. Nate had already grabbed the duffel, shoving what little we had left inside. I moved on instinct, reloading my gun as I grabbed Belle’s hand and yanked her toward the door. We had seconds—maybe less—before the next wave came crashing in.