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Evan’s voice carried through the forest, somewhere off to my left. But it was too far away. Much too distant to get here in time to—
The man lunged, and in a split-second of self-preservation I threw my entire body backward. I tripped, sprawled a few steps, then somehow regained my balance. Possibly because I knew if I went down, I wouldn’t be getting back up again.
By sheer stroke of luck my hand closed over something thick and heavy. I pulled it free from whatever it was caught on, then brought it forward and downward in a savage, overhead swing.
CRRRACK!
Something broke. It might’ve been my attacker’s wrist, or maybe the branch I’d used to strike him. Either way, the knife went flying over my shoulder, end over end. It flashed silver in my peripheral vision, then ricocheted off one of the trees with a metallic clang.
By now the man was on me, driving me backward. Throwing the full weight of his body against mine, as we fell in a struggling heap to the soggy, mud-choked ground.
Down on the forest floor it was dark and cold and miserable, even without the life-or-death struggle taking place. The raincoat I’d cinched snugly around my waist was all but open. My attacker was scrabbling madly with both arms now, desperate to reach my throat. I locked one of my hands tightly around his leading wrist… then raked my fingers across his face with the other.
“Nnnnghhhh!”
I did it savagely too, and without holding back. I could feel my fingernails digging in wetly as his flesh gave way. I should’ve been revolted by the fact I was tearing his cheek to bloody ribbons, but I was too busy roaring and yelling and fighting him off.
My involuntary screams helped facilitate my brain kicking me into fight or flight mode, and by now flight was out of the question. So I kept pounding. I kept hitting. I kept raking him everywhere I possibly could, all while he used the weight of his body to pin me, clawing and screaming, to the forest floor.
The struggle couldn’t last much longer. I’d done damage, but nothing that couldn’t be considered superficial. Everything I’d done to this man had caused him nothing but pain, making him even more angry…
A knee screwed itself into my shoulder. I cried out in agony, thrashing wildly to break free. But he was too heavy. Too bulky and strong.
This is it.
Fear gripped me as a second knee slammed down, this one even closer to my throat. The rain was falling directly into my eyes now, blinding me. Making it impossible to see the vengeful fist that connected with my face, a split-second later.
FUCK!
Another fist dropped, then another. I turned and took a fourth one on the side of my head. It felt like a thunderclap going off in my brain. My ear rang like a bell, then felt immediately as if it were on fire.
Motherfuc—
I blinked, clearing away the rain and blood and whatever else was dripping into my eyes. The next blow would knock me out for sure. It might even kill me. I stared up at that clenched fist, knuckles pulled tight, as the asshole pinning me down sat poised to unload it…
And then, abruptly, everything changed.
It felt like the weight of the world was lifted from my mud-encrusted, rain-soaked body as my attacker was suddenly and inexplicably gone. Or not so much gone, actually. Because when I sat up gasping, spitting out water and blood…
Cole was standing there, shirtless and magnificent. His arms were raised to the sky, gripping my attacker’s writhing, twisting body high overhead.
Holy—
The rage in his face was absolutely terrifying. Swinging his arms, he sent the man sailing through the air. Headfirst. Straight into the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree.
SNAP.
The sound left absolutely nothing to the imagination. There was no question as to what just happened. No need to run over and check and see if—
“Quinn! Are you alright?”
I coughed, sputtered up some water, then coughed some more. There was blood all over me, but it didn’t seem to be my blood. The whole left side of my face however, was throbbing like a bass drum.
“I—I think so.”
Cole’s big hands were suddenly everywhere, checking me all over, feeling me top to bottom for wounds and broken bones. Those hands moved with practiced ease, and independently, too. Like he’d done this a thousand times, in dozens of other places.
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
