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I swallow.

Okay. Alive doesn't mean uninjured.

Important distinction.

I push myself to my feet. The world tilts.

I grab the tree.

Mercer notices.

His gaze moves over me, calculating. “You're going to walk back to the road.”

“No.”

He lifts the gun.

I stare at it. Then at him.

“You need me.”

His gaze drops deliberately toward my leg. “Alive doesn't mean you need both kneecaps.”

“That's dramatic.”

“I'll shoot you in the foot if you'd prefer.”

I glance down. “I like these shoes.”

For half a second, he just stares at me. Then his face hardens again. “Walk.”

I suck in a breath and slowly exhale.

I take one step, then another.

If I get back to the road, what happens?

The SUV is wrecked. He can't take me anywhere in it.

Unless he has another vehicle. Or someone is coming.

A backup plan.

What does he do next?

I need distance again.

I look ahead, searching the trees and ground. The bank is somewhere to my right. Mercer’s boots crunch over leaves behind me.

My foot catches on a root, and I stumble. I hiss as a branch smacks me in the face.

His hand grabs my arm. “Keep moving.”

“I got hit by a fucking tree.”

His grip tightens.

I let myself lean into him slightly. More than I need to. My knees wobble.