Owen regards them with stony silence, but neither of them break. They keep up the glowers and occasional kicks in each others' direction.
Tension builds until he finally speaks, his voice low and matter-of-fact: "I was going to order pizza."
The mild statement has an immediate—and astonishing—effect. Both children freeze mid-flail, their expressions shifting from fury to shock to calculation in the span of seconds.
Sara clears her throat, smoothing her expression into something resembling contrition. "Then again, maybe I was a little mean to Jer."
"Yeah," Jer agrees, nodding solemnly.
Sara shoots him a venomous look. He catches it and hastily adds, "But I should have been the bigger man and let it go." Like he isn't younger than her.
Sara rolls her eyes.
But she doesn't argue.
The well-meaning (?) kidnapper lowers them to the ground with surprising gentleness. The moment their feet touch thefloor, they throw their arms around each other's shoulders, plastering identical grins across their faces—the fakest expressions of friendship I've ever witnessed.
Ever.
"See? We made up," they chirp in perfect unison.
Jer leans toward the man, his whisper loud enough to qualify as a shout, "Can we still eat pizza?"
Owen grunts. "Behave first," he commands.
"Got it," they chorus.
Ron sighs.
My heart rate quickens as I watch him move toward what must be the exit. This is it—my first glimpse at a potential escape route. Bun tugs at my leg and I pick her up absently, my eyes glued to Owen as I angle myself for a better view of what he's doing.
He approaches what appears to be just another section of cave wall, tapping an unremarkable-looking rock formation.
The floor shakes, and a section of wall slides away. Like magic. Harry Potter style.
No daylight comes through the door—it's dark out. But there's a faint breeze, carrying fresh air.
I breathe in deep.
Bun reaches up, grabbing at my hair right above my scalp as she scrambles to stand in my arms. Her chubby foot scrabbles at my chest and throat as she climbs my face, and I grip her torso with as much strength as I dare, terrified of her falling.
Ron, the absolute angel, comes over and plucks her off my face. These kids handle her with confidence, like she's as dangerous as a sack of potatoes. Me? I feel like I'm handling glass.
Wiggly, slobbery glass.
He hands her back to me, settled into a more normal position. Despite the duck bill hiding most of her expression, I get the distinct sense Bun is grumpy.
"Don't let her do that," Ron advises, patting her head. "She won't stop if she thinks she can get away with it."
Chapter twenty-five
Caine: Directions
CAINE
I grip the steering wheel tight enough to leave indentations in the leather as Jack-Eye's voice crackles through my phone's speaker. My patience—already hanging by a thread—stretches thinner with each passing minute.
We couldn't find Halloway anywhere. Even Thom couldn't track him down, much like he couldn't track Grace. He keeps blaming some strange magic in the area, but I don't care about excuses; only results.
