“Stop! Stop, you motherfucker!” Raven’s defiance is broken by a strangled sob. “I’m not going to tell you anything!”
Fucking hell.
That mouth of hers…
The thing that always allowed her to hurt me so badly but became a source of such tremendous pleasure is what is going to get her killed.
That and her stubborn determination and moral compass.
Whoever is in there with Raven wants something from her, and the only logical conclusion is that it’s information only she has—like the names and locations of everyone who spoke to her for her damn story. And as a reporter, she will do everything she can to protect them, even if it means suffering herself.
But the human body can only handle so much before it breaks.
Raven is strong but there is no knowing how long she’s been like this…
One fucking second is too long.
I inch forward, squatting to where I know there’s a small gap between two of the boards that I’ve been intending to patch before winter hits. It will give me the perfect view of what is happening inside.
As soon as I press my eye to it, I wish I hadn’t.
Blood on pale skin…
Raven sits tied to the chair only a few inches in front of me, her bound hands behind her, crimson rivulets trickling from where the plastic of the zip ties bites into her slender wrists with her struggling.
Rage momentarily blinds me, and it is in that blackness that I find my focus.
A plan forms—the pieces of it snapping into place quickly.
Someone moves in front of Raven, but with my limited view, I can’t make out anything more than a dark pair of jeans and a large hand.
I have to get him out of the cabin…
Away from her…
Somewhere I can have the upper hand…
And I have something he doesn’t—intimate knowledge of this land, plus my brother.
A low, male voice and a sinister laugh trickle out from the small hole where I stand, and all I want to do is jerk open the door and rush in, but he could do anything to her before I could get to her. He could hurt her even worse.
I can’t wait any longer.
If he isn’t alone, if there are others waiting in the forest around us, they’ll have a clear view of me, but I can’t waste the time it would take to move around the edge of the property to get to the massive stack of logs I have ready for the cabin walls.
I set off across the clearing, fully visible in the moonlight to anyone who might be watching, and I duck behind a log.
Blood rushes in my ears, and I hold my breath trying to hear over it to determine if anyone saw me and might be coming my way.
But the night remains still and silent.
I bring my hands to my mouth and do one of the bird calls Mom taught all of us when we were little.
It echoes out across the clearing, and a few seconds later, Killian returns it. Our way of speaking without words. Our own secret language taught by an expert hunter who never could have anticipated the game we would one day be facing on McBride Mountain.
Killian saw me move and understands I want to draw the intruder out.
A few seconds later, I hear something hit the outside of the cabin.
