Page 91 of Once Upon a Fable

It took longer than I wanted, slipping on rocks and scaling gangly trees. The godforsaken cliff grew steeper, harder, and my head kept swimming from her well-aimed attack. The world tipped and swayed, making bile roil and my mouth clamp tight.

By the time I crawled over the ledge and dug my fingers into dirt instead of stone, sweat poured down my back.

I was thirsty and angry, and adrenaline turned my body into a shaking mess.

My head continued to throb with agony from her strike. The ground wobbled beneath me, whispering how good it would feel to lie down...just for a second. To let go of this chase, to close my eyes, and let all of it be swept away.

Hell no!

This wasn’t the end.

This wasn’t how she left me.

When I wiped my face free from sweat, my palm came away red. Blood still dripped down my forehead, tracing my nose, staining my lips. Smearing the crimson on my dirty slacks, I ensured I’d never wear them again. They’d been soiled enough.

Just like me.

Clouds gathered rapidly above my head as I followed her tracks, thick and oppressive. A few minutes later, a loud crack of thunder boxed my eardrums, a friendly warning before a deluge of water tipped over the world.

Rain splattered on everything and everywhere, drenching me within seconds.

Her trail!

The tiny hints of her path, the hidden clues of her presence—they would all be washed away.

Run!

Throwing myself forward, I ignored the storm, my sickness, and the everlasting seduction from when she’d been on top of me. When she’d rocked over me. When she’d looked just as intoxicated as me.

None of that mattered.

The only thing that did matter was killing her before she got free.

My run switched to a sprint.

Find her.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

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MY STOLEN CLOTHES CLUNG to me as I skidded into the small clearing where my trusty Jeep waited. Its Sahara sand paint glittered with raindrops even in the darkness.

How many hours had it taken me to get here?

Four? Six? Ten?

I’d jogged the whole way, ignoring the stabbing debris against my socked feet. Pushing away the stitches in my side. I’d caught myself when I’d slipped in the mud and forced my tired muscles to keep going, just a little longer.

I’d reached the campsite where I’d slept that first night a few hours ago. I’d navigated the best I could until I’d found the faded ribbons that’d led me to this disaster, and then ran as fast as I possibly could.

I hadn’t looked back.

I hadn’t stopped to rest.

I’d used every second to put as much distance between myself and that ivy-covered palace as possible.

And now, I was almost free.