Page 102 of Fiery Little Thing
Fuck it.
I either get out of here, or I die trying. Pushing off the tree, I run as fast as I can through the forest, hugging the duffle bag to my chest with one arm and clutching the taser in the other. I don’t dare look back, too scared to see someone run toward me or lose my footing over the exposed tree roots. My lungs scream as I jump over bushes and run between trees, trying to keep as quiet as possible, but my jaw is aching from biting back a whimper every time my feet hit the ground. It hurts more than the first time I injured my ankle. My hand flies out against the closest tree when my ankle gives out and I tumble forward, skinning my knee against the ground as I go. The joints in my ankle feel like they’re grinding against shards of ice as I crawl back onto my feet, kicking up dirt behind me as I go.
“Stop!” someone calls from somewhere behind me.
Clutching the bag to my chest, I limp ahead as fast as my body will allow, muttering a string of curses as my eyes sting from the pain. I can’t let them take me. Iwon’t.
I don’t make it more than a couple steps before something collides into me and I’m thrown to the dirt, all the air punched out of my lungs. My fall is cushioned by the bag and the meager shrubbery. The taser flies out of my grip, and I cry out at the loss as panic claws at my throat.
The heavy weight on top of me moves, his hot breath burning the side of my face. “I’m taking you back—”
I whip my head back as hard as I can, clocking him in the face. A curse flies out of his mouth just as white spots dance behind my vision from the adrenaline rush. My hand snaps over my shoulder to latch on to his collar, and I use the gap between my body and the ground to wedge my knees beneath me, swapping our position. His arm automatically latches around my waist as he crashes onto the ground, while the other goes out to steady himself. I use the opening to bury my elbow beneath his floating ribs, and he grunts.
I’ve been in catfights since I was six, and I’ve been throwing hands against guys older than me the second I came out of the womb. This motherfucker has another thing coming if he thinks I’m a princess who’s just going to hold my wrists out and let him shackle me up.
“Stay still,” he grounds out. Both of his arms wrap around me, locking me in place against him. The single move is telling more than he realizes.
If he were Boris, he could punch me in my side to subdue me. But he isn’t. Whether it’s because he has a moral code against harming women, or because he’s under orders to capture me without harm, this man is on the defensive.
I curl forward, then swing my upper body back, knocking his head again and forcing the wind out of his lungs. His arms loosen just enough for me to shift onto my side and bite down on his arm without restraint. The layers of clothing between my teeth and his skin do very little when the human bite can register over 120 PSI—thank God for biology books.
“Fuck,” he snarls, letting go to shove me off him while he scrambles to his feet.
Just as I wanted.
I skitter along the ground to reach for the taser and bring thebutt of it against the soft spot above the side of his knee. As the limb buckles, I shove my elbow right up into his balls. He howls as he crumbles to the ground, and I knee the asshole right in the gut to wind him.
I didn’t listen to most of Kohen’s teachings, but I sure as shit gave him my undivided attention when he was telling me about pressure points.
My legs protest with every one of my movements, but I force myself to straddle the security guard despite his attempts to throw me off. My knuckles bleach from the grip on the taser as I hook my fist toward his temple. The moment skin collides with skin, I bite back a shrill cry from the agony that rips through my hand, all the way up my arm. A high-pitched ringing sound screams through my ears as I tip to the side, clenching my trembling hand as I roll in the dirt to push back the pain. Metallic blooms on my tongue as I bite down on my lip to distract from the pain.
A chill seeps into my bones, because I swear I can hear footsteps approaching.
The man beside me is out cold, and I have no idea if he told anyone that he’s found me. I have to keep moving.
A sob rips from my throat as I stumble back onto my feet. Everything hurts. Everything is fucking horrendous. I want to catch my breath or check out my middle finger that’s turning purple. But I keep going. I keep moving, feeling the tears burn my cheeks as I fumble for a pair of gloves from the bag and put them on to unlock the gate and limp to the other side. I keep tasting blood as I lock it behind me and blink away the dots scattered over my vision.
Cold sweat drips down my spine as my body pushes forward with nothing but adrenaline to keep me going. I can’t help but wishKohen were with me so I could feel less alone in my pain as I skirt around McGill’s house and down the driveway.
The only hope I have is that I’m almost there. I’m late and I’m filthy, but at least Tony’s car will be waiting for me at the end of the driveway. Then this will all be over and I’ll be free. I’ll make it to the motel, where Kohen anxiously awaits me. And it’ll be over. I just need to get to the car.
Except once I get to the end of the driveway and look around, there isn’t a car in sight. I spin and turn, feeling the panic clog my throat as I look for him.
No Tony. No shitty Corolla. No nothing. Just miles of road and forestry.
“Fuck,” I cry, pushing my broken knuckle against my lips as the first tear trails over my dirt-stained skin.
My drug dealer let me down after all.
The bag wrinkles as I hug it tighter to stave off the nighttime chill that rakes down my spine. My teeth continue chattering loud enough for everyone in a five-mile radius to hear. But I’m grateful for the cold. It means that my limbs are too numb to feel the pain. It means I’m no longer sweating out every drop of water in my body.
I can’t feel my broken finger. Or my toes.
I’m too tired to even limp anymore.
The harsh glow of the full moon casts ominous shadows over the woods. I glance up at the clear sky above the canopy of fluttering leaves, praying that this fever dream never happened. Each star is a perfect little white dot sprinkled against obsidian, unobstructed by plumes of clouds. A couple times I’ve heard an owl hoot in the distance and a rabbit dart across the path. I’ve even heard twigs snap and bushes rustle. I’ve heard the purr of engines andseen the golden orbs of forest creatures. I can’t bring myself to tense up anymore. The fight has drained from me.
I left Seraphic Hills at two o’clock. It has to be at least nine by now, if not midnight.
