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Travis folds his arms across his chest, and I gulp. The way he looks at me already has me pressing my thighs together.
It should be illegal to use that look.
"I guess she might not," he says with a shrug.
"Want what?" I ask, and Travis tuts.
"What’s the rule of today?"
I bite my lip as butterflies erupt in my stomach. "No questions, just doing."
"Do you trust us?" Travis asks, and my gaze bounces between them. I nod without hesitation, despite the question setting off all sorts of anxious tripwires. "Good. Now you have a three minute head start. Run."
My eyes go wide and I grip the cuffs of my hoodie sleeves. "Run?’
Travis just quirks a brow at me and my heart rate increases another notch. He doesn’t need to open his mouth for me to know what he’s thinking, he just taps his ridiculously expensive watch twice, his eyes lighting up with excitement. So rather than ask another forbidden question, I take a deep breath, trying not to freak out, and focus on the direction I need to head in before taking off like my life depends on it.
The cracking of twigs and nearly-frozen leaves under feet, coupled with my suddenly-loud breathing, is all I can hear. My cheeks are cold, my nose burns with the effort of dragging in great lungfuls of air, but the stress of not knowing how far three minutes will get me increases my heart rate threefold.
The physical effort of running and jumping over fallen tree trunks at breakneck speed—for me at least—is no small feat. I may not be the obvious choice for a survival reality TV show, but even I know not to run in a straight line.
Yet, somehow, all of this—the thought of getting caught—is making me ridiculously wet. I won’t make it easy for them, but let’s be real: there is no possible scenario that exists that has me getting the best of those two.
Making a left between two bushes as tall as I am, I squat down to make my way in another direction, trying not to poke my eye out with a rogue branch.
I pause when I hear the heavy stomp of a foot on the ground, then silence.
My ears are ringing with the loud pounding of my heart and my lungs are burning as I try not to make too much noise with my breathing. I have no idea why fear is running so rampant through my veins, like this game has a life-or-death outcome and my name is Katniss or some shit.
Iwantthem to catch me.
I just don’t want to lose.
Another crackle about fifty feet away tells me someone is definitely there. Or maybe it’s a deer. Or a wolf.
Don’t be stupid, Briar. Focus.
Closing my eyes, I try to work out who or what it could be. Sawyer would be talking shit if he knew I was hiding here, teasing me or talking dirty.
Fuck, why am I so wet thinking about this?
I squeeze my thighs together and give myself a little feminist pep talk about not being their toy or their prey, but who the fuck am I kidding?
I have zero doubt that if either one of them is there, it’s Travis. He’s the patient one, the calculated hunter who will wait for me to fall into his trap, waiting on his prey to make a fatal mistake.
Fuck it, I’m not staying here like a sitting—or more accurately, squatting—duck. If I’m going to play this game, I’m running like a ninja.
Do ninjas run? No, they would face their aggressors head-on.
Thank fuck I’m not a ninja.
I summon my courage like a queen and quickly stand, bolting without even checking who’s out there. I run, ducking and turning and probably getting lost in this maze they call the woods. There’s nothing in front of me and a quick glance behind me reveals only the same… trees, leaves, and bushes. I’m confident I can win this little game when suddenly, I’m hit by a brutal force around my abdomen. It’s like a vise that pulls me back against a tree trunk.
Wait.
That’s no tree.
Breathing harder than I’ve ever had to do in the past, I kick and scream and grab at anything that’s in the vicinity of my hands—to no avail.
