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"Please," I choked out, the word laced with a plea. Every instinct screamed that I needed to get away from her, from this situation. But with my hands bound and the forest closing in around me, my options were as limited as the slivers of moonlight that failed to penetrate the dark.
"Sorry, dear. This is where your story ends." She motioned with the gun, and Doug shoved me onward.
"Ellen, please..." My voice cracked, the terror I felt rendering it unrecognizable even to my own ears. Fear rooted me to the spot, and for a moment, I allowed myself to think of Sawyer—his warmth, his strength...
"Sweetheart," Ellen began, in that same damn patronizing tone she used when explaining the proper way to categorize the retail inventory. "You stumbled onto something you shouldn't have."
It all clicked—Ellen insisting on returning to the clinic, gaining access to meds and supplies. The pieces of a sinister puzzle fell into place, and I felt sick. "You're involved with that dog fighting ring, aren't you?"
"Involved?" she mocked, her eyes cold as steel. "No one ever wants to give me credit where it's due. Irunthe damn thing. Those mutts are just business. And your little clinic has been so convenient for patching them up."
"Business?" I spat the word out, my heart plummeting. How could she call it just business? Those poor creatures...
"Doug," Ellen called to her accomplice, her gun hand never wavering. "Head back to the clinic. Make sure there's nothing left to find."
"What about Bear, Doug? I saw how worried you were for him. I know you care about him!" I tried to plea with the man, but he wouldn't look me in the eye. Fucking coward.
"Got it, boss," he said to Ellen, then turned on his heel and disappeared into the night.
"Ellen, please, I know you have to care deep down. You've seen how injured Bear was—" I started again, my mind racing.
"Save your breath, Hannah." Ellen's interruption was curt. "There's no room for sentimentality in this game."
A game. To her, this was all just a game. But those animals, they weren't pieces on a chessboard—they breathed and bled. It wasn't just my life hanging in the balance. I needed to survive to stop this madness. To save the animals she'd so cruelly condemned.
"Ellen," I choked out, trying to keep my voice steady despite the bile rising in my throat, "those dogs... they felt everything."
"Everything has to feel something before it feels nothing, sweetheart," she replied, her tone chillingly nonchalant.
I stumbled over a root, the harsh tug from Ellen preventing a fall. The animals' pain flashed before me—their whimpers and cries emanating from deep within my memory, filling the silent gaps between our steps. I could almost smell the musty odor of blood and fear that clung to their fur, the stench of violence that no amount of antiseptic could cleanse.
"Does it even bother you?" My voice broke, laced with a mix of anger and despair.
"Caring is a luxury in my line of work," Ellen said, her words slicing through the air like the cold edge of a blade.
My heart hammered against my ribs as if trying to escape the horror, just as I wished to do. But escape wasn't an option. Not when every thicket seemed to conspire with the darkness, hiding potential threats or dead ends. With each step, my hope of finding a way out dwindled. I needed to reassess.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Quiet!" Ellen's voice cut through the silence like shattered glass. "Any more noise and I'll gag you."
I clamped my mouth shut, biting back the retort that bubbled up inside. Sawyer’s face flashed behind my eyelids—honey eyes that warmed me from the inside out, his sly grin that made my stomach do somersaults. God, if I'd known our last goodbye was really our last, I would have said so much more...done so much more.
"Ellen, this isn't you," I pleaded, hoping to reach some shred of humanity within her. "There's still time to stop this." I had to keep her talking, keep her distracted. If I could disorient her, I could maybe get away.
She snorted, and the sound was like a slap across my face. "You don't know a damn thing about me, Hannah."
"Maybe not," I admitted, "but I know cruelty isn't born, it's made. And it can be unmade."
"Save your psychobabble for someone who gives a shit."
"Where are you taking me?" I asked again, hoping to catch her off guard.
"You'll know soon enough," She said, her voice dripping with sinister satisfaction. "Just make sure you savor these last moments of uncertainty."
"Ellen, listen to me," I tried once more, fighting the urge to choke on the panic rising in my throat. "This won't end well for either of us."
"Shut up, or I swear—"
