My pulse spikes, my chest tightening while panic starts closing in around me, my options disappearing one by one. The one wearing the black helmet moves first, stepping closer until my focus snaps back to him instantly.
“We’ll give you a head start,” he says calmly. “Two minutes. Hide properly, and if we don’t find you… the picture disappears.”
My thoughts tangle together while I try to figure out whether this is real or some cruel joke at my expense.
“And if I don’t?” I ask calmly, even if my nerves are nowhere near as steady as I pretend.
“Then we’re gonna fuck you,” he states coldly.
My body moves before my brain catches up, and then I’m running into the forest without thinking about the darkness or what could be waiting out there. I don’t look back as I run deeper into the shadows, branches catching on my dress and scraping against my skin while the uneven ground throws off every step, my breathing turning ragged as the full weight of it finally crashes down on me.
This was such a bad idea.
What the hell was I thinking, dressing like this?
My heels sink into the dirt after only a few steps, making it impossible to keep any kind of speed, so I kick them off without stopping, barely noticing where they land as I keep moving, my feet hitting the ground harder now, sharper, the cold and dampness of the earth clinging to my skin.
It doesn’t take long before I stumble over something buried in the dark, and I hit my knees hard, the impact stealing my breath as my tights rip against the rough ground.
“Fuck…” I breathe out, pushing myself back up, my hands already dirty as I steady against the ground, my knee stinging where the skin must’ve scraped underneath.
But I don’t stop—I can’t. Mud clings to my feet with every step, turning each movement slower, heavier, while sharp twigs and scattered stones bite into my skin. One digs deep enough into my foot to make me flinch, but I force myself to keep moving, ignoring the pain as best as I can.
My breathing grows ragged, louder than it should be, and every sound around me suddenly feels amplified—the rustle of leaves, branches snapping under my feet—like the whole forest is betraying my every move no matter how fast I run.
I keep pushing forward, my dress catching on something behind me, pulling tight before the fabric gives way with a quiet rip, and I don’t stop, not caring anymore about how I look as long as I don’t stop.
My legs start to burn, my chest tightening with every breath, but slowing down doesn’t feel like an option, not when I can still feel that threat in the back of my mind.
I can’t let them catch me.
I try to change direction without thinking too much about it, stepping faster, cutting through the trees at an angle that makes no sense other than getting as far away as possible, but the earth gives out beneath me, and I barely have time to react before my foot slips, my balance vanishing in an instant as the darkness ahead drops into something deeper.
Fear crashes through my stomach before a hand clamps around my arm, hard and unyielding, yanking me back with enough force to knock the breath out of me. My body slams into something solid, my heart crashing against my ribs as I try to process what the hell just happened.
The white helmet—he caught me.
Before I can even pull away, before I can think straight, a voice comes from somewhere behind me, calm, almost amused.
“Here you are, kitten.”
“Leave me alone, you psychopaths!” I snap, my voice unsteady despite the rage burning through me.
The guy in the black helmet tilts his head with unsettling patience.
“Rules are rules,” he says, far too calm for this situation. “You don’t get to walk away from this just because you don’t like how it ends.” He takes a slow step closer. “And if he hadn’t caughtyou…” he adds, almost casually, “you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”
My eyes flick to the one with the white helmet, then back to him, my mind racing, trying to find something—anything—that could get me out of this.
“There’s no point pretending anymore,” he continues, his tone lowering slightly, turning the words heavier instantly. “Look at yourself… almost naked and ready for us.”
I glance down at myself and realize just how badly my dress has ripped. My bra is already exposed, my skin covered in dirt, my tights ripped all the way up between my legs, and from the waist down there’s barely anything left to cover me.
Before I get a chance to say anything, the one with the white helmet reaches up and pulls it off his head, and for a split second, despite everything, I catch myself wanting to see who’s underneath. But his face is still hidden, a black balaclava covering every inch of it.
The one with the black helmet moves behind me before I can react, forcing me down into the dirt, one hand clamping over my mouth while the other pins me in place.
I try to wrench myself out of his hold, but there’s no point. He’s too strong.
