Free Destined by Morgan Rice

bullies, more than anything. And if there was anything she hated worse than that, it was seeing a guy trying to hurt a girl. She felt the rage overwhelm her, felt the heat rise up from her toes, up through her legs and shoulders and hands; she felt it transform her, give her power she never knew she had. It was blinding, all-encompassing. She had no choice. It drove her.

    The three cretins dropped the girl, roughly, on the stone, smiled at each other, and turned and walked towards Caitlin. The girl could have ran, but instead she stayed where she was, watching.
    Caitlin heard Rose growl beside her.
    Caitlin didn’t wait. She took three steps forward, leapt into the air, and planted two feet hard on the lead man’s chest, kicking him so hard that he flew back several feet.
    Before the others could react, she wheeled and elbowed one hard across the face, cracking his cheek with a loud noise, and sending him to the ground.
    The third man grabbed her from behind with all he had. Caitlin struggled, surprised for a moment. This one was much stronger than she’d expected.
    Just as she prepared to flip him over her shoulder, she heard the sound of breaking glass, and felt him drop his grip.
    She turned and saw the girl standing behind her, a broken bottle in her hand, and the man lying limp on the ground: she had clearly smashed a bottle over his head.
    Before Caitlin could thank her, the first man, back on his feet, charged at her again. But Rose was mad now, and she took the lead, charging him, leaping into the air, and clamping down hard on his throat. The man dropped to the ground, squirming and screaming, but he could not get Rose off.
    Finally, he passed out, and Rose returned to Caitlin’s side.
    Caitlin surveyed the damage: the three men lay there, unconscious.
    She turned and looked at the girl.
    The girl stared back, bewildered and grateful at the same time.
    Caitlin stared back at her, and Caitlin was shocked, too. But not because of what had happened.
    Rather, because she knew this girl.
    In fact, she had once been her best friend.
    It was Polly.

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CHAPTER SEVEN

    Sam woke to the sound of clanging church bells. He never knew bells could ring that loudly, and he felt as if he were inside the bell itself. His entire body shook with the sound, as he opened his eyes to utter blackness. He reached out, and felt stone in front of him.
    He frantically reached out in every direction, and felt himself encased in stone. He was flat on his back. He tried to move side to side, but couldn’t, and that’s when he realized: he was in a coffin.
    Panicking, Sam reached up with all his might, and after several seconds, was finally able to move the stone lid; with a scraping noise, it slid just a few inches, as light and fresh air poured in through the crack. He breathed deeply, realizing how badly he needed it.
    He slid a few fingers into the crack, and with all his might, pushed the lid to the side. Again it scraped, protesting, but soon he was able to get all his fingers in, then his hands. Within moments, he pushed the stone lid completely off, and with one final heave, it crashed to the floor, cracking into a million pieces.
    He sat upright, gasping for air, and shielded his eyes from the light.
    Sam jumped up