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When I pass by Sadie, she’s glaring Mya’s way. I give her shoulder a quick squeeze of support before making a mad dash to my pile of clothes. Once dressed, I shove my hand into my pocket, fingering the slender but pointy bone. It’s small, but it’s something. Right now, it’s a sliver of hope and I cling desperately to it.
We’re staying at this camp another night. Michael made the announcement over dinner. Because of the water source and plentiful game nearby, he wants to give Stacey and the small children a rest. Stacey didn’t show up for dinner because her back was hurting and she didn’t feel well. Because she didn’t have her “pretend mom” claws in them, I actually got to spend the evening sitting with Declan and Dakota.
Both of the boys were doing remarkably well, much to my relief. Declan was extra clingy and to be truthful, I needed to just hold him. It reminded me that I couldn’t let Logan break me down. My siblings are relying on me as their big brother to protect them—to get them out of this situation.
Speaking of Logan…he’s still gone.
Been gone all day on a hunting and scouting mission for Michael. His absence was exactly what I needed to recover some mentally before having to face him again.
Now, it’s bedtime and he hasn’t come back, which is unusual. Me and Kristen have been silently playing a card game using the lantern light to pass the time, but my mind is loud and reeling with rampant thoughts.
What if this is my chance?
If he’s out in the woods still hunting, I could sneak around to gather up my sisters and brothers and Sadie. Kristen could help me. Together, we can get the hell out of here.
My heart starts racing as I turn my attention from the game to the tent opening. Our boots sit close to it. All I need to do is put my boots on, unzip the tent, and go on a hunt for my people.
“This is our opportunity,” I say to Kristen in the softest whisper. “Now or never.”
Her wild eyes meet mine and she shakes her head fiercely. “No, Ronan. You can’t. They’ll catch you.”
Ignoring her argument, I toss the cards down and scramble over to my boots. I can’t seem to pull them on fast enough. Once they’re on my feet, I unzip the tent. Casting a glance over my shoulder, I gesture for Kristen’s boots.
“Come on,” I hiss. “Let’s go.”
“Ronan—”
“Going somewhere?”
My blood turns to ice at the sound ofhisvoice. Logan sticks his head into the tent, smirking at me. I force my body to remain stiff, desperate to keep the trembling at bay. I refuse to let him see my fear.
“Bathroom,” I blurt out. “I was trying to get Kristen to go too, but she’s afraid a bear will get her.”
Logan’s eyes turn to slits as he studies me. “You both can wait until morning. I’m beat.”
Scooting back, I reluctantly pull my boots back off. Logan enters the tent, zipping it up behind him. His stare roves over me and then he flashes me a conspiratorial smile, followed by a wink.
My skin begins to crawl as the memories from last night flood my mind. The brutality. The pain. The utter helplessness I’d felt. Unable to stop them, tears brim on my eyelids and my Adam’s apple bobs as I swallow.
Please don’t do this.
His tongue darts out, running along his bottom lip as he pins me in place with his ravenous stare.
“Sorry to disappoint, pet,” Logan murmurs. “But Kristen still owes me a baby. Perhaps it’ll be lesson time again tomorrow.”
I’m caught between feeling relieved he’s not going to fuck me to horrified that it has to be Kristen. Resigned to her fate, she begins removing her bottoms, her head dipping to keep her eyes out of sight.
Logan turns off the lantern, bathing us in darkness. I pull my knees to my chest and bury my face against them. The sound of flesh slapping flesh soon fills the tent, stabbing at my eardrums. No matter how hard I try to ignore it, it continues to bore into me, reminding me of my own terrible fate last night. I suck in a ragged breath, desperately needing air in my seizing lungs.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
It’s not until I push my hand into my pocket and finger the bone fragment that I’m able to regulate my breathing again. Slowly, my heart rate begins to even out. The slapping of their skin increases, but each time I run my thumb over the sharp, jagged edge, I’m able to further disassociate from the situation and focus on what I need to do.
Escape.
