Chase didn't pounce on me. He just casually strolled closer as I scrambled to find my feet. But it was like they no longer wanted to obey me. Like the second I'd hit the ground my whole body had shut down, every last ounce of strength depleted.
Nope. No way. I was not going out like this.
A pained, primal scream wrenched from my throat as I dug deeper. I staggered to my feet, threw myself forward, and used gravity to my advantage as I continued toward the rushing river. It wasn't even all that wide and probably not overly deep, so what the fuck was my plan once I got there? I didn't have one. But the alternative was to roll over and give up.
Hell no.
Chase increased his pace, closed the gap between us, and reached out to snag the back of my stolen coat. I'd anticipated it, though, and slithered free of the fabric. The sudden lack of a person inside the garment made Chase jerk off balance and fall on his ass, but I just pushed on. When I reached the edge of the river, I simply collapsed into the water and let the current carry me for a moment, weightless.
My cold fingers still clutched the knife, managing to keep hold of it through the coat sleeves. So when a strong hand gripped my hair and yanked me out of the water, I lashed out.
As the blade sliced through the flesh of his side, Chase gave a shout, releasing me in surprise, and I instantly plunged back into the water. Not out of choice, simply because my legs had stopped working.
The current pulled me, finding no resistance, and swept me quickly out of Chase's reach while I fought to simply stay conscious and hold my damn breath. Imagine if I escaped all Chase's torture and drowned after the fact.
Every time the river tossed me, pushing my face above the water, I gasped another breath. Otherwise, I just let myself go limp and free, allowing the river to take me wherever the fuck it pleased. Far too soon, though, the water pushed me to a point of the river where it was too shallow for me to keep being carried, and I reluctantly pushed myself to hands and knees in the sand.
"Did you have a nice swim, Darling?" Chase called out, his voice booming through the night air and sending a wave of terror down my exhausted spine.
I swept my soaking hair from my face with a trembling hand and spotted him on the far bank of the river. He must have kept pace as the water carried me, but now it was too deep in the center, and too wide, and too strong for him to risk crossing it right then and there.
It wouldn't hold him for long, though. We both knew it. So with weak, jelly-like limbs, I staggered out of the water, flipped Chase my middle finger, and hauled ass into the trees before he changed his mind and decided to shoot me.
The cold from the water had given a welcome numbness to all the aches of my body, and I could barely feel the cuts in my wrist anymore. Which, a fuzzy part of my brain told me, was probably not a good thing. But it was also not a good thing to be caught and dragged back to Chase's little cell of torture. I bit my cheek and lifted my bleeding wrist back to my chest as I continued aimlessly through the forest.
It was only a few minutes later—I think—that my vision danced with black spots and my knees gave out midstride. I crumpled, but didn't hit the ground.
Strong arms caught me, crushing me tight against a hard body and making me cry out in pain. It was enough to shock me back awake, though, so I wasn't totally mad about it.
"Quiet," my savior hissed, clapping a hand over my mouth as he lifted me in his arms and started running. A hundred times faster than I'd managed since breaking free, the world whipped past my face as I inhaled the smoky, rich smell of man-sweat, gunpowder, and Zed.
Zed. He'd come for me.
Tears heated my eyes, sliding down my face as waves upon waves of relief, anger, fear, frustration, and heartbreak wracked through me.
I twisted my head, pushing his hand away from my mouth. But before I could do something stupid, like tell him to take his lying, treacherous hands the fuck off me, he grunted in pain and stumbled. His grip on me didn't falter, though, holding me tight to his chest as he regained his balance and pushed on. Shouts echoed after us, but I couldn't make out the words. All I could focus on was the pounding of Zed's feet on the forest floor, the rough pants of his breath, and the steady, comforting thump of his heart under my cheek.
Zed had come for me.
"Fuck," he cursed when more shouts followed us. Chase. How the hell had he caught up? He must have found a point to cross the river. The fact that he wasn't shooting suggested he'd had to ditch his shotgun to swim across, so that was something.
"Dare, baby," Zed muttered between breaths, "I'm going to put you down, and I need you to run, do you understand me? You need to fucking run until you're safe. Clear?"
No. Not clear. Not even close to clear. But he gave me no time to disagree, swinging me down out of his arms and placing my damaged feet on the ground.
"Run!" he barked, spinning back around and catching Chase off-guard with a vicious right hook.
I couldn't run, but I did my best. Staggering and stumbling, I pushed myself forward in the direction Zed had urged me. My blood rushed so hard in my head it deafened me, muting the sounds of fighting behind me and making it hard to focus on anything.
Then I realized it wasn't in my head. The deafening sound was from the helicopter hovering above us. As I stared up, dumbstruck, a rope uncoiled from the hovering chopper. Bright spotlights lit the forest floor where the rope extended, and I pushed myself harder to get there. Surely this was the safety Zed was talking about. If not... well that'd be some shitty luck.
Just thirty feet to go.
One foot after another.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
Stumble.
Stinging pain zapped up my leg as my knee hit a rock, and I gasped.
"Come on!" I yelled at myself.
Twenty feet.
Fifteen.
Ten.
My foot snagged on a root, and I tumbled forward with a cry of desperation.
Zed caught me again, his sprinting momentum sweeping me up in his arms as he threw himself at the rescue sling that the helicopter had dropped.
The strap hit me in the diaphragm, knocking all breath clean out of my lungs as Zed's body blanketed me. Protecting me.
Then... nothing but darkness.
6
Fragments of shouting voices filtered through my consciousness, but they were muffled and static-filled. Roaring white noise filled my whole head, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't open my eyes. I couldn't raise a hand or even move. Fuck. Fuck. I was strapped down to something.
Panic clawed at my throat, but before I could scream, I slipped back into unconsciousness.
The next time I woke, I sat up with a gasp, that same panic still coursing through my veins.
"Hayden," a soft voice exclaimed. That wasn't Chase. Wait. Was that...
"Lucas?" I croaked, rubbing my eyes and squinting in the dark room. Several things became clear immediately. One, I was in a bed. Unrestrained. Two, while it was dark, it wasn't the oppressive, suffocating darkness of my cell. Light filtered in from the ajar door to the hall, and the curtains were open to allow moonlight in.
Three. Lucas was here with me.
"Yeah, babe, it's me," he breathed, reaching out for me. Without meaning to, I flinched away before his hands could reach me, and he froze. "Shit. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have..." He swept his hand through his hair, the movement just visible in the moonlight.