Behind us, Brandon groans. “You b…bitch,” he slurs. “You f-f*****g c-cu—”
I don’t wait to hear the rest. I drag Yasmin through the bedroom door, down the hallway, past Zeke’s still form in the living room.
“Wait! We can’t leave him,” Yasmin rasps, her voice destroyed.
“We can’t!” I scream. I’m still pulling Yasmin toward the door, my bloody feet leaving prints across her carpet. “Yas, I just saw Bastian. He—he did something. Something awful. We have to go.”
“What? What does that mean? What are you talking about?” She’s still trying to twist back toward Zeke, but I yank her harder.
“He killed someone!” The confession bursts out of me like bile. “I watched him f*****g cut off a dead man’s finger, Yasmin. We can’t wait, we can’t—Brandon might wake up, or Bastian might find us, and Zeke—
