Red strobes wash over the walls in harsh, pounding flashes while alarms scream through the manor’s halls.
I step into the hallway with my gun raised, heart punching against my ribs. “We need to move. We need to find her now.”
Beau steps beside me, weapon up, eyes sharp and focused. We clear each corner, check every sight line, and start kicking down doors one after another. Guards spill out of rooms and side corridors, shouting into radios and grabbing for guns they are too slow to use.
They drop fast.
Two go down in the hallway in front of us, chest shots that slam them into the walls and leave them sliding to the floor. Another tries to cut across behind us from a doorway. Beau puts a round through his throat before he finishes raising his weapon.
“Outside,” I say.
We hit the back exit and push into the night. The cold bites through the heat still running under my skin. The sirens bleed out into the open air, thin and distant over the grounds.
Two figures stand near the tree line, watching us.
One holds two curved blades in their hands, the metal catching flashes of red from the lights behind us. Beside them stands another figure gripping a chainsaw, the pull cord wrapped around their wrist.
As soon as they see us drop the last two men by the door, their attention shifts. The one in the sheep mask tilts their head, assessing. The one with the chainsaw jerks their chin toward the forest. The chainsaw roars to life, the sound ripping across the yard and swallowing part of the siren wail.
I raise my gun and fire.
The shots tear bark from the tree trunk near their shoulder. The one with the chainsaw curses, turns hard, and bolts for the deeper dark between the trees.
They scatter fast, moving in the opposite direction, vanishing into the forest on a line that doesn't lead back to the manor.
They're going to hunt.
I need to find Brooke in this forest before they do.
Chapter 28
Brooke
The siren explodes overhead, loud and mechanical, shaking the ceiling as red lights flash in time with the sound. Miles grabs my hand.
We run.
We bolt through the doors and into the night, our feet striking tile, then dirt as we plunge into the trees. The white fabric of my dress snags on thorns and branches almost immediately. Behind us, Elliot’s laughter echoes faintly over the dying siren.
Miles stays close beside me. His breathing is rough, steady only because he forces it to be.
“They’ve set traps out here,” he whispers as we sprint deeper into the forest. “Rope snares. Pits. Spikes. I heard them talking about it.”
I nod and scan the ground with every step.
“How far does the forest go?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says. “But we need to keep moving. That siren won’t last long.”
The blood between my legs stays warm, slowly soaking into the white fabric. The dress clings heavier with every step, making it harder to move.
I don’t know how much longer my body will hold out.
The second siren wails through the forest, vibrating through the ground beneath my feet and carrying through the trees without fading.
The sound marks the beginning of the hunt.
We run faster, pushing our bodies past what they want to give.
