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Fuck.
Oh, fuck.
I’d hoped like hell Bron was shitting me, but that sound hadn’t come from a human throat.
I ducked down behind a clump of ferns.
Could wolves smell how afraid I was?
If I’d been religious, I would have prayed, but all I could think about was how shitty it was that no one would miss me. Maybe Lane, but she’d get over it, especially if she’d hooked up with Ajax and Calder.
My siblings would get their scholarships, at least.
I stopped to pee, even though I didn’t really need to. My bladder hadn’t liked the sound of those wolves either.
Afraid, I kept moving, trying to find the shore. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to head back already and admit I was chickenshit, but at least it gave me a goal. Using the sun as a reference, I walked and walked until I reached a clearing. An old, squat cabin crouched in the middle of it, logs thick with moss.
Did someone live here?
It looked abandoned, but it was also in good enough shape that I couldn’t believe it had been empty long.
“Hello?” I called, knocking timidly on the door. I should have passed it and kept going, but the idea of being indoors, away from ravenous beasts, was too tempting.
No answer. Then again, if someone lived here, they were unlikely to speak English. The windows were too grimy to see through.
Another howl came, but it seemed farther away. I tried the rusty door latch. It gave way when I used both thumbs, then I had to put my shoulder to it to get the door to swing inward.
Debris littered the floor. Dust coated the table, and the chairs were broken. The bed was a mouse-chewed, stained mattress on a rusted frame. Rope and dead leaves made untidy heaps on the floor, along with a huge, old-fashioned fishing net.
The place looked like a serial killer hangout.
Even so, I pulled the door firmly closed and made sure the latch engaged. There was no lock, but wolves couldn’t open a latch, right?
I felt like one of the three little pigs, waiting for a wolf to blow my house down.
There was nowhere to hide.
Taking refuge in what seemed like the only other structure on the island, other than the house and its out buildings, seemed too obvious if I was still trying to get away from Ilya and Bron, but I was so nervous about the wolves I was almost hoping the men would find me. Rough sex wasn’t a big deal compared to getting eaten alive.
I cleared a spot on the floor beside the empty hearth and sat down, leaning on the stone. It was cold in the cabin. The sun was far too weak to reach through the dirt-caked glass to warm the space. I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing I’d had some warning so I could have brought a sweater.
Men. Always springing these things on a girl at the last minute. Bron was probably the kind of guy who told his girlfriends that black tie events were business casual. Hell, he was probably the kind of guy who brought his girlfriends to black tie events completely naked and on a leash.
My ass wasn’t even prepped.
Stupid. I’d found lube in one of the downstairs bathrooms. I really needed to start prepping myself, just in case.
Should I go back? If I got back to the house before they did, would that mean I’d won?
When I was about to get up, the door burst open.
I screamed bloody murder and launched to my feet, grabbing a broken chair and holding it out in front of me.
Bron grinned. His shaggy hair had leaves in it, and his eyes—dear god, they were terrifying.
He looked completely unhinged.
“I thought you might be here, stupid cunt.”
I brandished the chair at him, as if I were a lion tamer at the circus and had lost my whip.
“Get back!” I shouted, jabbing the legs at him.
He jumped backward to avoid catching the wood in the ribs. Then, as I edged toward the open doorway, he grabbed the chair and yanked it from my hands.
I turned and fled, hearing the chair clatter, and feeling him following close behind.
“Come on, De-li-lah,” he mocked. “I’ll only hurt you a little.”
I shrieked in fear. The look on his face was one I knew all too well—the beast had taken over, and the man had been pushed so far down he might never see light again, at least not until it was too late. It was the face of the soccer team, and of men during hunts. The face of my high school teacher.
I ran and ran, dodging through the trees, my face and bare arms getting whipped with branches, underbrush tangling in my skirt.
Something caught in my hair, and I was jerked to a halt. I screamed in pain, my hands flying up to cover my sore scalp.
“No more flying, pretty bird,” he growled.
“No, no, no!” I begged, smacking at him, trying to claw at his eyes.
He wrestled me to the ground, but I kept fighting him. When he pinned my arms, I tried to kick, twisting beneath him to stop him from getting between my legs.
I was getting tired, but desperation made me strong. I got a knee up between us and shoved him off, flipping over to scramble away. He caught my ankle, and I lashed back at him, my nails connecting with skin.
He was swearing now, cursing me in Russian.
“Take her arms,” he spat.
Then Ilya was there, grabbing my wrists. Two against one. This wasn’t part of the game.
“Let me go. You can’t gang up on me!”
“Why? That wasn’t in the rules.” Ilya was grinning down at me, face flushed, eyes bright with excitement.
“One or the other! It wasn’t supposed to be both of you!”
“Pin her with your legs.”
Ilya rearranged his hold, and Bron helped trap my hips between Ilya’s thighs. Of course, I was face down in the leaf mold. With my arms twisted behind my back I could still kick, and I tried to land something, but my struggles had flipped up my skirt and a cold steel blade sliced through the new granny panties Bron had ordered me with the grocery delivery.
Bron got behind me, pushing my thighs wide, making my attempts to kick him fruitless.
He spat, and warm saliva hit the crack of my ass and slid down to my asshole.
“Please no,” I begged.
He didn’t listen, spearing a thick finger into my ass with ruthless determination.
“Fuck you, Bron! This isn’t fair!”
”Is life usually fair?”
