I grabbed his sleeve, yanking him toward the shadow of the oak tree looming near the curb. My pulse thundered in my ears, my voice tight with panic and irritation — and something else I wasn't ready to name.
"What is wrong with you?" I whisper-yelled, grip firm on his jacket. "What are you doing here? Do you want to get us in trouble?"
My eyes scanned the street, desperate, calculating. I saw car was coming towards us. The second I saw the headlights sweep across the far end of the street, something cold and instinctual took over. I didn't think — I just reacted.
I grabbed Malcolm's sleeve again, shoving him deeper into the shadows, my body moving with a speed born of pure, unfiltered fear.
"Get down," I hissed, dropping low beside him, pressing into the rough bark of the tree as if that alone could shield us from Eldermire's gaze.
The car passed at the end of the road. It didn't turn in. But my pulse still hammered like a warning drum in my ears.
