Fatal Attractions

II

My heart pounds a mile a minute as I bolt through the dense trees, my legs burning as they carry me along the soft ground. The smell of damp grass and icy air cut through my senses as the sound of my own heavy breathing fills my ears.

I whip my head around and see someone gaining on me as I sped up.

I leap over a few tree trunks, duck under low branches, trying to adjust myself to the rough terrain.

Sweat drips down my forehead as I nearly trip on a tree branch. I heard leaves crunching under feet behind me and take off again with more power than I had before, almost on the brink of exhaustion.

I eventually break out of the trees into a large field, tumbling onto the ground in defeat, my chest heaving.

My head sticks up as I watch the person behind me break out of the trees.

"Dammit," Aubrey cursed, wiping her hand across her forehead. "I thought I beat you."

I grinned and looked down at my phone. "Five minutes and twenty two seconds."

"Whatever," she grumbled, laying on the ground next to me. "You're only ahead because you have had more practice than me. I don't have to run when I work, I fly." A long time ago, Aubrey invented flying boots for a science fair and trashed them in her closet after she had lost. Who knew that years later they would come to good use, making Firestorm the only vigilante in the town that could fly.

"They need some upgrades though." She sighed, stretching her arms above her head. "They only fly about a hundred feet in the air, right in shooting range, but I just don't have the brain capacity for this kind of stuff anymore."

"So you're running," I said, my breaths still heavy. "Because you think your boots are going to die."

She nodded solemnly. "I'll let them go once I can beat you."

I pushed myself up, smirking at her. "Then I guess you're going to have those boots forever."

"Shut up." She giggled as I helped her up.

I was about to start jogging back to Main Street when I heard the droning of a plane overhead. I looked up and saw a small jet dangerously close to where we were standing. The wheels stuck out from the bottom and I was struck with the sudden realization that they would be landing right where we were standing.

"Come on," I ran back into the trees with Aubrey, shielding myself from the view of the field with a thick tree trunk.

The plane didn't have a very graceful landing, but it managed to make it safely onto the ground without bursting into flames.

A million questions filled my mind as I tried to guess whose plane this was, why they were here, and what they planned to do in the city. But I was first questioning why they landed in a field.

The door opened and a flock of security guards came out. Who had this many security guards?

I noticed a giant name on the side of the plane, answering my previous question, Rockwell.

There was only one Rockwell that could be flying into this city as far as I knew, and that was Blake Rockwell.

It finally made sense why he was landing here, he didn't have time to land in the airport two cities away. Convenience was the Rockwell way, and when you're a priority, convenience was easy.

Blake Rockwell, the city's top playboy. His dad is a wealthy oil miner which means he got everything he wanted, and I mean everything. Which wasn't hard for people to obey, because he was damn handsome, even though I was almost positive he was a legal sociopath. If the rumors are true, he kidnaps prostitutes and makes them into mannequins, putting them in his mother's top of the line boutique. They say if you stand close enough to them, you can hear their souls whispering.