Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
I've been running for what feels like hours, but the trees just keep coming. Dense pines that block out the sky, undergrowth that catches on my clothes and hair. Everything looks the same, and I can't figure out where I am. That's the worst of it. If I had any sense of direction, any idea where I was, at least I'd know which way to go.
But I don't.
I step forward. My toe catches on a gnarled tree root, and I go sprawling, my hands hitting the frozen earth hard enough to sting. I know the second my knees hit the ground that something has happened to my ankle.
Fuck.
I take a look at it in the dim moonlight filtering through the canopy. It's swelling beneath my torn stockings and hurts with every step. Now it's swollen and throbbing, and every time I put weight on it, white-hot pain shoots up my calf.
But I can't go back.
I managed to escape. I managed to get away from whoever he is. Now I just need to find my way home.
I stumble over another root and catch myself against a tree trunk. The bark bites into my palm. I'm so cold my teeth are chattering. That thin sweater I changed into does nothing against the chill spring air. My fingers are numb, and my feet are worse because I have nothing more than the ridiculous flats I wore to my graduation ceremony.
Was that really just yesterday?
A light flickers through the trees ahead, and my heart leaps with desperate hope. A house? A road? Someone who can help me?
I push forward, limping, ignoring the pain in my ankle and the burning in my lungs, as the light grows brighter. Closer.
I'm going to make it. I'm going to—
Oh god.
My heart sinks to my toes.
It's a shed. A goddamn fucking shed with a solar light mounted on the side. A rickety old structure that won't get me anywhere because it's filled with shovels and tools, and on the other side of it lies nothing but more endless pines.
The disappointment is crushing.
I brace myself against the shed's wall and let out a sound that's half sob, half scream.
There are no houses. There are no roads. There's no help.
That’s why he brought me here.
He truly did bring me to the middle of nowhere to keep me safe… or so he says. There are just trees and darkness and cold, and this goddamn shed.
I sink to the ground, my back against the rough wood, trying to catch my breath. I should have at least eaten before I left, but once I discovered a way out, I had to move quickly. I knew the sooner I left, the better my chances were to cover ground before he came back.
My ankle is pulsing now, like it has its own heartbeat, all hot and swollen. When I try to flex it, the pain makes me gasp.
I can't run. I can't keep going. I don't even know which direction I'm heading.
What if I keep going this way only to find I'm ten kilometers from any civilization? Maybe I should just stay here and wait for morning. Try to figure out which direction leads to help.
Except I don't know which direction that is. For all I know, I've been running in fucking circles.
God.
The cold seeps through my clothes, settling deep into my bones. I'm freezing. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to stop the shaking, but it doesn't work.
This was stupid. So fucking stupid.
I should have waited. Once I figured out I could get through that window, I should have just played nice. I know how to. I've been doing it my whole life.
I should have planned better. I should have—
A branch snaps somewhere in the darkness ahead, and my head jerks up as my pulse rockets.
“There y'are.”
His voice cuts through the trees, low and rough and far too close.
No.
I try to stand, but my ankle gives out, and I collapse back down with a cry of pain.
“Don't.” His voice is closer now, edged with something dangerous. “Don't you fuckin' move.”
He emerges from the shadows like something out of a nightmare, tall and broad, those silvery eyes finding me immediately in the darkness. He's breathing hard, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.
He looks furious. Terrifying.
“Please don't—” I start, but he's already moving, and I don't even know what I'm asking him.
He crosses the distance in three long strides and drops to his knees in front of me. His hands go to my injured ankle before I can pull away.
“Don't touch me.” I try to kick at him with my good foot, but he catches it easily, his grip firm but not painful.
“Stop.” His fingers probe my ankle with surprising tenderness, and I hiss at the pain. “Christ, lass. What happened? What did you do?”