Page 119 of What Remains

His footsteps pounded through the snow behind her—too close, closing fast—and Josie pushed harder, her mind echoing one name in rhythm with her feet. Layla. Another step. Layla. Another. Get home. Get back to her.

She cleared a fallen tree, nearly going down on the far side when her ankle rolled, pain lancing up her leg. She stumbled, recovered, and kept running until his weight slammed into her from behind, driving her into the ground and emptying her lungs. Snow filled her mouth. Her hands flew instinctively toward weapons she no longer carried, and her mind scrambled for anything else. Think. Think.

He grabbed her ankle. Josie kicked wildly, her heel catching his cheek. He swore and lunged forward, she rolled. His hand closed around her coat, tearing the fabric away in his fist. She seized a handful of snow and dirt, hurling it directly into his eyes.

He screamed. She scrambled backward on her hands, her fingers striking something hard and solid beneath the snow. A rock. Josie closed both hands around it as he pawed furiously at his face.

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

She rose unsteadily, blood trickling from her temple, her torn coat hanging from one shoulder, her entire body trembling with cold, adrenaline, and rage. She raised the rock anyway.

"Then you're going to have to fucking work for it."

He charged. Josie swung, and the rock connected with the side of his head with a sickening crack that sent him staggering. She swung again, but this time he caught her wrist, crushing her fingers until the rock dropped into the snow. His other hand closed around her throat.

Josie clawed at his fingers as pressure built behind her eyes and her lungs screamed for air. His face blurred above her. No. No. She couldn't die here, not with Layla waiting, not like this. Her knee came up one final time, and though he twisted away from the worst of it, his grip loosened enough. Josie tore free and stumbled backward, dragging in one ragged breath, then another, while he recovered and reached for her again.

And that's when she heard it.

Faint. Far behind them. A branch snapping somewhere in the darkness.

The man froze. Josie froze. For one terrible second, neither of them moved, and his head turned toward the sound.

"What the fuck was that?"

Another sound followed, closer now—someone crashing through the woods, moving fast. His attention shifted away from her for only a second. Josie stared toward the dark trees beyond him. She had no way of knowing who approached but somewhere beneath the terror, beneath the pain, beneath the growing certainty that she might die in these woods, hope flickered to life.

So Josie did the only thing she could.

She screamed.

“HELP ME!"

The raw, desperate cry echoed, and she screamed again, pouring every last bit of her remaining strength into the sound.

Seth's blood turned to ice. Josie.

He abandoned the trail without hesitation, branches whipping his face as he ran toward the sound. His boots tore through knee-deep snow, his lungs burning in the frigid air, but he pushed harder.

"JOSIE!"

Another shout reached him through the trees—then silence, which frightened him more.

"Josie!"

He crashed through a wall of young pines and saw them: two figures, tangled in the gloom. One had her. His rifle at his shoulder in an instant, the world snapping into focus through the optic. He froze.

The bastard dragged her backward against his chest, one arm locked across her upper body, the other holding a knife against her throat.

Seth went completely still.

Josie looked like hell, but the fury in her posture he saw first. Her coat torn and blood streaked her face, but she was on her feet, still fighting. She was alive.

Her eyes found his, and the change in her face nearly destroyed him. Relief—pure, overwhelming relief—flooded her expression.

"Seth."

His name escaped her like a broken breath, and for half a second everything else disappeared. The realization written across her face hit him square in the chest: he'd come back. He'd come back for her.