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I kick.

My heel catches his thigh.

He grabs my ankle.

I kick with the other foot.

It catches his stomach.

He swears.

I scramble backward.

He grabs my leg again.

I twist and kick again.

“Stop fucking fighting!”

“No!”

He drags me toward him.

I grab a fistful of leaves and dirt and throw it straight into his face.

He jerks back.

I kick again. My heel connects with his knee. Hard.

Mercer makes a sound that doesn't sound human.

His grip disappears.

I scramble away on my hands and knees.

“Fucking bitch.”

“Kidnapper!” I don't know why I yell it back.

I get one foot underneath me.

Mercer catches my shirt. The fabric pulls tight against my throat.

I twist and swing blindly.

My fist catches his injured arm.

He roars.

I saw that arm hanging at an odd angle beside him on the road.

I hit it again.

He slams me against a tree.

Air leaves my lungs.

His forearm presses across my chest. “Enough.”