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"Stay away," I stammered, trying to keep my composure.
"Damn squatters, I told you we should have put somebody out here," the first man said, slamming the door shut.
"Grab her," the one behind him ordered, and the red-headed man with the injured cheek came at me.
As he reached for me, I swung the knife again, holding it in front of me in a defensive stance. He opened his hands and taunted me, "Come on now. If you're gonna stab me, do it."
I stood my ground, trying to keep them at bay with the knife. I knew I was outnumbered, but I wasn't going down without a fight.
My hands trembled in fear as I faced the menacing men. I knew I was no match for any of them, but I had to try something. So, I acted erratically, shouting obscenities in Spanish and swinging the knife around like a madwoman. My only goal was to distract them long enough to make a run for it.
But instead of fleeing, I found myself in a violent struggle. One of the men lunged at me while the other yelled for his accomplice to grab me. In a desperate attempt to defend myself, I swung the knife, and it sliced through the attacker's hand. He hissed in pain as I backed away, frantically searching for anything to use as a weapon. I grabbed plates, pans, and even the coffee machine, hurling them at the intruders before landing a blow with a pot.
“I said, grab her!” One of them yelled as another lunged for me.
With a scream, I dodged one of them and bolted toward the open patio door, running barefoot into the dark woods that bordered the lake. I hoped the trees would provide cover, but my escape was short-lived.
Suddenly, a hand wrapped around my waist, and another clamped over my mouth, stifling my scream. My attacker's grip was like a brick wall, and they swung me around a tree trunk. I struggled against their hold, but they only tightened their grip. Then came the chilling whisper.
"Don't move."
The sound of the approaching men sent shivers down my spine, and I took deep breaths to steady myself. Suddenly, I recognized the familiar scent of the man holding me.
"Just stay quiet, Cat," Scott whispered as I melted into his arms. He removed his hand from my mouth and put a finger to his lips, signaling for me to remain silent. We waited in tense silence as the intruders closed in.
A twig snapped nearby, and the man holding me raised his weapon, scanning the area for any signs of danger. Ahead of us, I could make out the silhouettes of three men.
"Just let her go, Guardrail," one of them said.
"Fuck that! Besides, she looked like one fine woman," replied Guardrail.
"We don't do shit like that anymore, man."
"Come here chickitty, I got something for you!" The one named Guardrail taunted me.
I looked up at my protector, whose eyes were filled with unspoken emotions. Concern, care, and kindness shone in his gaze as he touched my cheek in a comforting gesture. His gentle touch eased my fear, and I closed my eyes, savoring the moment.
As the intruders approached, Scott signaled for me to stay put while he assessed the situation. I listened intently as they passed by, and just as they were about to move out of earshot, he accidentally stepped on a twig.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath.
Guardrail immediately headed in our direction, and Scott motioned for me to stay down.
"When I tell you to run, you run," he whispered.
With lightning speed, he lunged at one of the men, taking him down with ease. He wrapped his forearm around the man's throat and brought him to his knees. I watched in horror as the man gasped for air and then went limp.
Suddenly, another intruder lunged at him, and I screamed in terror. At the same time, Guardrail grabbed me, lifting me off the ground.
Scott quickly released the lifeless body and spun around to face Guardrail. I struggled against his grip, trying to break free as I saw the glint of madness in his eyes. He was strong and determined, his grip unyielding as he held me close to his chest.
“Let her go,!” He shouted, his voice laced with warning.
“Well, what do we have here,” Guardrail growled, tightening his hold on me.
I felt like a trapped animal, my heart racing as I tried to wriggle free. Snare took a step forward, his hands raised in a defensive stance. Guardrail sneered at him, and I could see the muscles in his arm flexing as he tightened his grip on me.
A few feet before us, Scott struggled with another man. Suddenly, a gunshot pierced the silence and I screamed in terror. Scott had taken down the man by shooting his kneecap and delivering a powerful blow to his face, rendering him unconscious. Despite his injuries, Snare approached us, his gun still in hand. I could see the pain etched on his face, blood oozing from his wounds. He seemed apologetic as his eyes met mine.
