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We moved down a narrow trail as quickly and silently as we could, which wasn’t the easiest thing to do under the circumstances.
Twigs snapped beneath my boots as I struggled to keep even footing, occasionally grabbing at a tree-trunk to prevent falling.
“There’s no one here,” Nyx softly said, sounding as stupefied as I felt.
She was right. There wasn’t anyone in pursuit of Makayla, and I couldn’t hear anything either.
But, both she and the curly haired girl had come running from these woods as if a fire was lit beneath their asses.
As we approached where there was a gap in trees, I began to relax. We entered a small clearing where a strip of moonlight had still managed to shine. It bridged a gap between another thicket, and through them, I could make out a small, seemingly undisturbed house.
“That’s where the girl came from,” Nyx said, moving to stand beside me.
Annie had already fallen back into obscurity, watching over us from afar. I once asked why she did this; her reply was that she liked to see all angles for a clearer shot if she had to take one.
“You think there’s anyone else inside the house?” I asked.
“Yes, but they’re dead.”
“How many?”
“Two,” she replied.
“That explains the quiet then.”
“Doesn’t it always?”
So who or what killed them? I stared through the clearing, waiting to see a sign of someone or something, but everything remained the same.
With a defeated sigh, I strode forward, making my way through the next thicket. “I don’t get it, what were they running from?”
“Don’t you mean, who?” a husky voice replied.
I reflexively jerked to the side, accidentally knocking into Nyx. She tried to place me behind her, but behind her was another.
He had a hand over her mouth and a knife at the base of her throat before she could even attempt to move out of his way.
In the span of those few seconds, I found myself struggling for possession of my gun. Not much of a struggle, admittedly. It took less than three minutes to overpower me.
The man used his size and strength to his advantage. My fingers closed around the metal, holding tight. By some small miracle I hadn’t flicked the safety off, or I’d have likely shot myself in my attempt to not the damned thing go.
“Be a good girl and give me the gun,” he mockingly chided.
I ignored him, throwing my weight—all one-hundred and twenty-five pounds of me—into his side.
Not only did that fail spectacularly by him counteracting the move, but trying to move him was like trying to lift the XL with one hand.
He swung me in a circle so vehemently did I not drag my feet I’d have been lifted off the ground. My palms burned from the friction.
The trail was narrow, not allowing for such a turn which caused the left side of me to be grabbed by thorny brambles. I held back a hiss as they pricked my skin through my shirt.
Before I could readjust my grip, my wrist was bent at an awkward angle, the bone instantly screaming in protest.
“Ugh,” I grunted, fighting back the tears that came with the pain, internally spewing every curse word imaginable.
“Drop it,” the man commanded, twisting further.
I swallowed a whimper and a curse, gritting out through clenched teeth, “Bite me, asshole.”
