Chapter 2

The kidnappers, whose names I learned were Ricky and Sal, argued for ten minutes. Their grand ransom plan had collapsed. They were left with a hostage nobody wanted and no money.

"What do we do now?" Ricky, the sweaty one, whined. "We can' t just let her go. She saw our faces."

"We' re not killers, Ricky!" Sal, the bigger one, shot back. He was clearly the one with a slightly more functional brain.

I was getting impatient. "Look, it' s not that complicated. You kill me, you dump the body. Problem solved."

They both looked at me like I was insane.

"We' re not killing you, lady," Sal said, shaking his head. "That' s not what we do."

He sighed, running a hand over his face. "Okay. New plan. We need cash. There' s a convenience store up the block. We' ll hit it. You," he pointed at me, "are coming with us. You' ll be our insurance."

This was getting ridiculous. My perfect, easy death was being hijacked by incompetent criminals who wanted to rob a 7-Eleven.

Before I was Jocelyn Chavez, the unwanted Duncan heiress, I was just Jocelyn. A kid bounced between foster homes in the worst parts of Chicago. I saw things. I learned things. I knew how a convenience store robbery could go wrong. A nervous clerk, a silent alarm, a hero trying to stop it. People got shot. It was still a chance.

So I nodded. "Fine. Let' s go."

They dragged me out of the van and pushed me into the brightly lit store. Sal waved a gun at the teenage clerk, who immediately put his hands up, his face pale with fear. Ricky started stuffing cash from the register into a bag.

It was all going too smoothly.

Then I saw her. A young woman, maybe my age, hiding behind a rack of potato chips. She was trying to call someone on her phone.

Sal saw her too. He moved toward her, his gun raised. "Hey! You! Put the phone down! Now!"

The woman, Molly Johns, was frozen in terror. Her eyes were wide, her hands shaking. Sal was getting angrier, more agitated. This was it. This was the moment it could all go wrong.

This was my chance.

In that split second, I didn' t think. I just acted. I saw the path to the end I wanted.

I threw myself forward, shoving Molly out of the way. I didn' t see the knife in Ricky' s hand until it was too late. He had been coming up behind her, and my shove put me right in his path.

A sharp, cold pain shot through my side. It wasn' t like I imagined. It was just... a pressure, then a strange warmth spreading through my shirt.

I looked down. The handle of a cheap steak knife was sticking out of my abdomen. Blood was already soaking through the fabric.

"Perfect," I whispered.

The world started to spin. The bright lights of the store blurred. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was a face pushing through the small crowd that had gathered outside.

A face I knew.

It was Andrew. And he looked horrified.