She rolled Darcy onto his side, gritting out a sob as his head lolled against her shoulder. “I am so sorry,” she whispered, bracing herself. Her only idea—the only way to get them both inside without further hurting him—was terrible.
And it was all she had.
She laid her body atop his, curling herself around him, her arms cradling his head as best she could. Then, with one desperate motion, she rolled them both sideways—over the edge, down into the dark.
They landed hard. Great mercy, but he was heavy!
The air rushed out of her lungs. His weight pressed her flat into the cold earth, the jolt making her cry out softly. But he was in. They were in.
Her arm trembled as she reached up, feeling blindly for the planks she had left within reach. She groped until her fingers found the edge and pulled, dragging one board across. Then the next. Another gunshot cracked above, and a splinter tore from a rafter overhead. Dust and fragments fell onto her hair as she eased the final board into place.
Darkness sealed them in.
Total. Breathless. Terrifying.
Elizabeth lay there, arms wrapped around him, the side of her face pressed to his chest.
She waited.
Waited.
And then—yes.There. A faint thump beneath her ear. A heartbeat.
Still alive. Still hers.
Or was that only the thunderclap of her own pulse drumming in her ears?
Elizabeth froze beneath the floorboards, her body pressed against the cold, damp earth, cradling Darcy’s inert form. The confined space was suffocating, the air thick with the scent of soil and her own fear. Above them, the cabin bore the brutal assault of their assailants.
The relentless barrage of gunfire continued, each lead ball tearing through the cabin’s thin wooden walls with a sickening thud. Splinters rained down, and the stone hearth above them shuddered under the onslaught. Elizabeth flinched at every impact, her heart pounding so fiercely she feared it would betray their hiding place. She tightened her hold on Darcy, feeling the faint rise and fall of his chest against her own. The warmth of his blood seeped through her clothing.
Then, abruptly, the gunfire ceased.
The silence struck like a hammer. Not peace—no, never that—but something worse. Expectation. Elizabeth froze, blood galloping in her ears, listening to the world hold its breath.
They had stopped shooting. Not because they had fled or were satisfied. Because they were coming.
The thought slithered in before she could shove it away. Of course they would come now. To look. To finish. Her fingers dug into Darcy’s coat, sticky with blood, and her mind scrambled for a new plan—anyplan—but there was nowhere else to run.
And then she realized… The trail. The blood. Her own frantic crawl across the floor, slicing her feet to ribbons on the glass and dragging Darcy’s bloodied body across it.
It was all there, pointing like an arrow. She had bought them minutes. Not safety. Minutes.
A shiver coursed through her as she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching the cabin. The door was kicked open with a force that rattled the walls, and heavy boots stomped inside. Through the narrow gaps between the floorboards, faint beams of lantern light pierced the darkness, casting eerie patterns on the ground beside her. She held her breath, every muscle taut with dread.
Voices, rough and laden with anger, exchanged terse words. “Where are they? They couldn’t have gone far.”
“The back window’s shattered. Maybe they escaped that way.”
A pause. Then another voice, sharper, more observant. “Wait. Look here—blood. Fresh. Leads this way.”
Elizabeth’s stomach clenched. They had found the trail. She felt nauseated with terror as she pressed closer to Darcy, her body the only shield she could offer for his. She willed herself to disappear, to become one with the earth. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them away, focusing solely on the faint rhythm of Darcy’s heartbeat beneath her.
The intruders moved methodically, their boots thudding ominously above. Furniture was overturned, belongings rifled through. Each sound was a dagger to her fraying nerves. Then, the dreaded moment arrived.
The footsteps halted directly above them.
A guttural curse.
