Page 47 of One Shattered Crown
I cross the cabin to the bathroom, use the facilities, and look for clothing. Yep. T-shirts and jeans. The shirt falls almost to my knees, and I have to roll up the too-large jeans. A lot. Then I move into the kitchen area to quietly open the fridge and take out steaks before going through the few drawers. There are a couple of good knives, and I filch them.
I need to get away from Justice. He’ll force me to give him the code to create a computer virus, and nobody should have that. It’s too much power, and he might use it against Alana’s family or Rosalie’s man. It’s what they all do. The four families have a lot of blood on their hands.
And we all know there’s someone else on the board. Afifth player who has yet to make a real move. Unless they have, and we haven’t figured it out.
Somebody wants me dead. A lot of people want Justice dead. While I don’t think he wants to kill me, he does want to have sex with me for the near future. My body is totally on board with the idea, and my brain knows better. Probably because my heart keeps going all pitter-patter because the asshole keeps protecting me with his life. Jerk.
I have to get away from him, and this is probably my only chance.
With one last sad look at the sleeping animal, I tiptoe across the living room, open the front door, quietly shut it, and start to run.
Seconds later, heartbeats really, I hear the door crash open.
Fuck.
I duck my head and run faster, dodging between trees and ignoring the punishing rain. It’s as if nature wants to stop me.
He’s getting closer and not being quiet about it. Why would he? This is his territory and he knows it. Plus, he’s faster and stronger.
But I’m smaller.
I duck between two younger trees, crouching to avoid their branches, and keep low.
He’s coming.
Branches slam into me as I run, lungs burning, mud sucking at my shoes. The brambles jab against my side. My chest aches, but I keep moving.
Justice is behind me. No stealth. Heavy boots, breaking branches, closing fast.
I duck under a branch, cut left, then cut right. My breath tears out in gasps. For a second I think I bought space.
I didn’t.
His hand clamps my arm. Hard. He yanks me back and spins me. My feet lose the ground. My back slams into a tree, bark scraping, air exploding out of me.
He’s here. Too close. Rain drips from his face and plasters his black hair to his head. His dark eyes lock on mine, glittering. His arm bars across my chest, pinning me. His other hand braces by my head.
He’s all cut muscle, soaked shirt plastered to his body, chest rising and falling steady while mine jerks. Heat rolls off him even in the storm. He looks like power carved sharp. Dangerous.
My chest heaves. I shove at him with both hands. His body doesn’t budge. “Let me go,” I rasp, voice shredded from the run.
His jaw flexes. His mouth is hard. His breath hits my cheek, rough. “Are you insane? You don’t even know where we are right now.”
I push harder, palms against his chest. Nothing. He doesn’t move. “The forest is safer than you are.”
His laugh is short. Cruel. He leans in closer. The bark digs harder into my spine. His body presses, unyielding. His mouth is near mine now, heat cutting through the cold rain. “The forest at night is much safer than I am,” he agrees, low and certain. “You’ll never outrun me.”
My breath comes too fast. My hands stay flat on his chest. I could shove again. I don’t. My heart slams hard enough to hurt.
His eyes flick down once, then back up. Fury stillburns in them, but it’s not just anger. There’s hunger in those orbs. For me.
I swallow. My legs tremble but I hold his stare. My voice shakes but comes out. “Maybe I don’t have to outrun you. Maybe I just need to fight.”
His lips twitch. Not a smile. A warning. His grip on me tightens, like he’s daring me to try.
Rain pounds harder, running over both of us. The storm rages, but all I hear is his breathing and mine.
My pulse hammers as I glare up at him. His arm pins me, body pressed tight, rain dripping between us. The knife digs into my hip where I hid it. My fingers close around the hilt.
