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Drip.
The scent of gasoline was in the air. Thick, cloying gasoline, and the coppery stench of blood.
Drip.
Drip.
Erin stared at the mound of twisted metal. Her feet crunched glass on the ground beneath her, but she didn’t feel any pain. “Hello?”
Thunder rumbled.
She wet her lips and inched forward. The broken car looked like hell. The roof had been smashed. The front four feet of the car had been crumbled to pretty much nothing by the tree.
The scent of blood grew stronger.
Shadows filled the interior of the car, but she knew someone was inside.
Living or dead?
Her hand reached out and touched the icy door handle. She yanked, but the thing wouldn’t open.
Someone was inside.
Blood.
Another hard pull, this time, with both hands.
Nothing.
Her palms were wet, from the rain, from her own sweat.
She should get help.
Yes, yes, that was a good idea, she’d go, get help.
Erin stepped back, almost falling in the slick mud.
She’d find help, then she’d come back as fast as she could.
Turning, she ran for the?—
“D-don’t...l-leave...m-me...”
The voice stopped her cold.
“P-please...”
* * *
Erin woke, breath heaving.
“D-don’t...l-leave...m-me...”
The voice echoed in her head, and, dammit, it was a voice she knew.
“Erin?” Jude’s growl. Sleep-roughened and deep. “Sweetheart, you must’ve had a bad dream.”
If only. But it was never that simple for her.
