Page 116 of When the Smoke Clears

He doesn’t bother replying. Instead, his hand dives into the trunk, thick fingers twisting through a fistful of my hair. He yanks and fire lances through my scalp. A cry bursts from my throat as stars explode behind my eyes.

The world becomes a dizzy haze as he drags me like a rag doll from the trunk. I slam into the dirt with a muffled thud. Dust plumes around me, gritty and bitter on my tongue.

My vision swims as I push onto shaky elbows. We’re perched on the mountain, high up near the stretch of road where he rammed me off the cliff. Just beyond us, a narrow trail twists down the eastern side, leading toward the infamous ridge locals whisper about.

Anyone who grows up in Wildhaven knows about this desolate and dangerous place. In high school, two drunken teenagers stumbled off that very cliff. The tide had swept away their broken bodies, and it took weeks before search and rescue dragged back what the water hadn’t already claimed.

My pulse stutters. Perhaps that’s Nathaniel’s plan. Toss me over the edge, let the water devour me, and leave Wildhaven to chalk it up as a tragic accident.

“On your feet,” he snaps, his boot colliding with the side of my leg. Pain spikes through bone and muscle, jolting me upright with a grunt.

I press my hand against the battered bumper for leverage, but my body is sluggish and heavy. It’s as if gravity has doubled its strength.

I wobble upright. Nathaniel crowds me immediately, one hand gripping my shoulder while the other brandishes a pistol that glints in the dappled light breaking through the pines. My skin goes clammy beneath his touch.

I can’t fight him now, not outright. But Nathaniel has always been a man fond of hearing his own voice. Maybe I can buy time. Maybe I can keep him talking.

“Why are you doing this?”

His response is a backhand that cracks against my cheek with the violence of a gunshot. The searing sting steals my breath, white fire spreading across my jaw. I stumble but force myself not to crumple, tasting blood as it spreads hot and metallic across my tongue.

He shoves me forward. “Move.”

I force my legs into motion even as my knees threaten to buckle. The forest is eerily still, with only the crunch of pine needles and the rasp of my breathing cutting through the silence. My mind races, cataloging every possible escape route, every noise, every flash of movement in the trees.

And then it hits me. Luke’s watch. I glance down quickly. The plastic digs into my skin, but it also hums with the smallest thread of hope. He said to keep it on. If Nathaniel doesn’t notice it, maybe Luke can find me.

“I’m sorry.” I force the words out like poison I have to swallow. “I didn’t mean to cause problems, Mr. Wild.”

He scoffs, barking a short laugh that sounds too close to a growl. “Problems? You are nothing but problems. Always have been.”

The words slice through me like knives, but I force my expression to crumple in apology. “I only came home because of my mom. I didn’t mean to interfere. I never meant to hurt anyone.”

Nathaniel jerks me forward, the barrel of the gun grazing my side as a cruel smile stretches across his lips. “But you did. You distracted Luke. You poisoned him with your nonsense, made him believe he could be something other than what I wanted him to be.”

“You didn’t want him to be sheriff.”

He sneers, tightening his grip until my shoulder burns. “Of course not. I could have given him everything. Money, power, protection. But he chose this pathetic dream. He’s going to lose everything because of it.”

My throat burns, but I keep moving, legs dragging as I clutch at the small flicker of hope pulsing against my wrist. Please, someone, see me. Please, someone, come.

The trail narrows, roots crisscrossing like skeletal hands reaching out from the soil. My Uggs slip, and I nearly pitch forward before catching myself on a tree trunk. Nathaniel jerks me upright, the pistol pressing harder into my side.

The rage that simmers in my veins threatens to boil over. I can’t just keep walking to my death. My mind scrambles, desperate for some distraction, some delay, some shred of resistance that might give Luke or Gabe time to reach me.

Without thinking, I drop my hand, scoop up a gritty fistful of dirt and pine needles, and fling it into his face.

He curses, blinking furiously, momentarily blinded. My heart leaps. I spin and bolt off the trail, stumbling through underbrush, branches whipping at my face. My lungs burn as adrenaline surges, my only thought: RUN!

But my boots aren’t meant for this terrain. Pine needles slide beneath my soles, sending me skidding downhill. My legs pinwheel, arms flailing for balance. For a split second, freedom feels possible, until Nathaniel’s iron grip clamps around the back of my sweater.

He yanks me backward, and I slam to the forest floor. My palms tear against gravel and sap, sticky pine tar gluing to my skin. A cry rips from my throat.

“Try that again,” he hisses, towering over me, “and I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

“Why are you the one doing this?” I rasp, forcing the words past clenched teeth.

Anything to keep him talking. Anything to buy time.