yanked me to my feet.
“This isn’t the Stone Age,” I griped. “You aren’t a caveman. Quit pulling my hair.”
Surprisingly, he let go of my ponytail.
Then he backhanded me across the face. I really, really hoped my other eye didn’t swell shut. I kind of needed it to see.
“I’ve had enough of your attitude.”
I’d had quite enough of his hitting, but I decided against saying so.
He moved to strike me again. My reflexes were faster. I threw my arm up to block the hit and then I kicked him in the shin.
I took off running, not knowing which direction to go, but not caring. Anywhere was better than here.
He tackled me (hadn’t we played this out before?) and I fell, my face bouncing off the ground. The wind howled around us as my hand closed over a stick, and when he rolled me over, I swung it right at his head.
The tip of the makeshift weapon grazed his cheek and he grunted. Then he grabbed me around the wrist and yanked my arm away. He dug his fingers into my arm until I knew there would be bruises and he bent my wrist until the stick fell out of my grasp.
“What is this?” he asked, leaning down so even in the darkness I could see the wildness in his eyes. “What have you been hiding?”
His hand groped the shape of his phone beneath my sleeve.
I began to struggle, to kick and hit, to scream and shout. It wasn’t enough to throw him off me, and he forced the phone—
He looked between me and the phone for long, seemingly endless seconds. The weight of his large frame pushed me into the ground, and my breath wheezed in and out of my lungs, every single inhale and exhale hurting.
Slowly, he reached out and unzipped my jacket.
My mind swam with ways I could kill him, with ways I could cause him pain.
“Get off me,” I ground out.
He laughed.
His free hand pushed away the sides of my jacket, baring the white shirt I wore beneath. He made a tsking sound. “So many clothes you wear.”
Then his hand closed over my breast. It was an effort to remain impassive as he roughly kneaded my skin.
He didn’t even seem to notice he was fondling my breasts (thank God I was wearing a shirt and a sports bra) because he was too busy looking at his phone.
I knew the second he saw one or the other. His hand gripped my tender flesh and squeezed until I almost cried out. I knocked at his hand, dislodging the worst of his grip.
“You called 9-1-1?” he said, his voice low and flat.
Fear skittered along my nerve endings and the hair on the back of my neck stood tall.
“What did you tell them?” he said, looking at me over the phone.
I remained silent. My hand was lightly feeling around for a rock or another stick.
He gripped the front of my shirt and yanked me up so his face was inches from mine. “What did you tell them?”
“Nothing.” I lied. “I couldn’t get through. Your phone is a piece of shit.”
He shoved me back onto the ground. My ears rang when my head recoiled off the ground. He was doing something on the phone again… I knew I needed to distract him.
Using all the energy I could muster, I twisted my entire body like I was rolling over. I knocked him over a bit and I jerked up, trying to get out from under him.
He leaned down, lying on top of me, using his entire body as a weight. His breath was hot against my ear. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he began. “I’m already very angry.”
I froze beneath him. Feeling his entire body against mine was disgusting. I was pinned down, completely at his will, and it made me sick.
He stoked my hair as he scrolled through the phone. Every once in a while, he would lick my ear. After a few minutes, his body went rigid.
I knew he found the texts.
Why hadn’t I deleted them after I sent them?
His teeth closed over the sensitive flesh of my ear and he bit down. Hard.
I let loose a scream before I could stop myself. I felt my skin break and blood begin to ooze.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he shouted, rearing up.
He scrambled up and yanked me to my feet. I tried to run, but he pulled me back.
“You just sealed your fate,” he spat. “What a pity too. I was so looking forward to getting to know that body of yours.”
He hit me again, sending me flying backward onto the ground. I reached out for a stick, a rock, or something, but he leaped on me. He straddled my middle and then threw the phone behind my head. It hit a tree, and I heard it break.
The shattering of that phone took away any last hope of survival I had.
He reached behind him and pulled out something.
A very long, very sharp-looking knife.
“This is going to hurt,” he promised.
My arms were pinned at my sides beneath his legs and my hands dug into the earth as he dragged the blade down the center of my chest.
I kicked up my legs, trying to bring them high enough to kick him in the back of the head. He laughed and pushed the blade against me harder.
I swallowed thickly and squeezed my eyes shut.
Death was here.
14
Nathan
The sound of her scream had me spinning away from the direction I was heading and sent me running.
She was here. She was close. She screamed for a reason.
I prayed I wasn’t too late and I moved stealthily over the uneven ground, dodging trees and branches as I ran. My heart rate wasn’t erratic. My breathing was steady.
I was trained for this. I was trained to search through the woods, to find my way. I was trained to keep cool in bad situations. I was trained to run toward the danger and not away.
I heard Lex yell, his voice sounding more maniacal than I ever thought he was capable of, and I drew up, stopping my mad dash. I crept through the night, keeping my eyes peeled for a flash of movement, for the outline of a man.
Lightning cracked overhead, illuminating the sky, and it reflected off the wicked-looking blade of a knife.
In that split second, my brain processed the scene before me and sketched it out in my head as the sky went dark once more.
Lex had her pinned to the ground as she kicked her legs to no avail. He produced a knife, one that I had no doubt he had nefarious plans for. I thought about pulling out my pistol and taking a shot.
But the girl was wiggling too much; she was kicking too hard. What if I accidentally shot her? She was already wounded enough. I left my gun tucked in the waistband of my jeans and rushed forward. I had the element of surprise and the fact he was distracted immensely on my side.
