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The mystery man—just a dark silhouette, really—had blindfolded me in the dark, overpowering me after a fruitless struggle back at the clinic. He was easily more than twice my weight and over a foot taller. As scrappy as I felt, I was no match.
He'd removed the blindfold when we got here in order to force me to walk, but had so far remained out of my range of sight. At least I could get a sense of where we were. True, it was dark. And the forest was dense. But we'd passed the clearing Alex and I had found. I knew it as strongly as knew my own name.
Which meant, this was definitely related to the dog fighting. My eyes threatened tears at the realization, but I forced them back. I refused to go down without a fight.
We pressed on, and the forest seemed to close in on us, towering pines like sentinels to our grim procession.
"Watch it," I hissed, barely catching myself against a tree trunk. My heart thrummed in my chest, pounding out an erratic rhythm that matched my stumbling steps. Every labored breath tasted of panic and the musty earth beneath us.
"Move," was all he grunted in response, his voice as rough as the bark I leaned against. But it sounded familiar.
I tried to focus, tried to place where I'd heard it. But I'd practically met the whole town in the past month or so. Pinpointing a man I'd only seen a silhouette of was proving to be impossible. there was nothing but the dense woods, their eerie silence swallowing up my fear only to spit it back out amplified. No soothing ocean waves to calm me here, no friendly faces or neighborly concern—just the unknown and the unrelenting grip of my captor.
"Please," I tried again, allowing my voice to crack with desperation. "Where are you taking me?"
"Shut up and keep walking." His command left no room for negotiation.
Leaves crunched underfoot, a cacophony in the quiet, breaking through the sounds of my heavy breathing. I tripped over roots that seemed to reach for me, entangling my feet, as if the very earth conspired to keep me captive too.
I thought of Sawyer then, his easy smile and the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed—how they reminded me of sunlight dancing on the water's surface. A pang of regret surged through me, sharp and sudden. Would I die here, never getting a chance to say goodbye?
"Damn it," I muttered, letting that thought feed the anger in my soul. I decided I was going to die, I wouldn't make it easy on this asshole.
"Quiet!" He shoved me again, and this time I didn't catch myself in time.
I hit the ground hard, my body jarring against the unforgiving forest floor. For a moment, the world went silent except for the sound of my own ragged inhales. Darkness edged my vision, but I refused to let it take hold. Not now. Not yet.
"Get up," he snarled from somewhere above me.
"Go to hell," I spat back, my words laced with as much venom as I could muster.
"Wrong answer."
His hand wrapped around my arm, yanking me backward onto my feet. I winced, biting back a scream as the pain shot up my already bruised wrist. It was useless; he was relentless. And deep down, in the place where hope used to live, I knew I was running out of time.
Stumbling forward, I tried to focus on the tangled roots that seemed hell-bent on tripping me at every step. The moon played peek-a-boo through the dense canopy of leaves, offering only fractured beams of light to guide my way—or more accurately, his way since I was merely a pawn in this twisted game. My heart hammered against my ribcage, each beat screaming for release, for escape.
"Almost there," he grunted, and I shuddered at the implication. What awaited me in the heart of these woods? Imprisonment? Death?
The sudden rustle stopped us both dead. He stiffened, hand gripping the back of my jacket like a vice. Moonlight flashed on metal, and I caught sight of a gun barrel gleaming amongst the foliage.
"Ellen?" His voice betrayed a flicker of uncertainty.
"Good job, Doug," came the crisp reply, the voice unmistakable and chillingly calm. Ellen Landis stepped into the clearing, her short auburn hair almost glowing against the darkness, that damn pink lipstick a stark contrast to the night's shadows.
"Jesus Christ," I breathed, every clumsy, awkward part of me frozen in fear. Doug's voice and silhouette came rushing into my mind, clear as day. He'd given me an uneasy feeling when I'd talked to him about Bear. I should have suspected he'd been involved somehow, and not just a victim. He'd been too cagey, too quiet about the injuries.
But Ellen...Ellen was the last person I expected to see holding a gun with such casual authority.
"Surprised, Hannah?" Ellen's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You shouldn't be."
My gaze darted between the gun and her face, trying to reconcile this cold, calculating woman with the one I knew from the clinic. "Why, Ellen?" The question scratched its way out of my throat, raw and desperate.
"Let's just say... I'm invested in certain interests that you've become a liability to." Her tone was light, conversational even, as if discussing nothing more consequential than the weather.
"Liability? I don't—I don't understand," I stammered, struggling to keep the panic at bay. Could she be involved in all the horror I'd stumbled upon? It seemed so far beyond the realm of possibility. She'd spent her whole career helping to care for sick and injured animals, yet here she was, orchestrating my abduction with the ease of someone directing traffic.
"Of course you don't," Ellen sighed, as if disappointed by my lack of comprehension. "But there's no need for you to worry about that now."
