The jumpy one—all twitching limbs and darting eyes—had taken to the edge of the clearing. She froze as he headed her way again. His gaze swept the ground by her feet, noticing the scuffed soil, but she had the rock carefully hidden. Snarling, he kicked a rock into the brush. Like her abductor, his body moved differently, with extra joints and muscles that shouldn’t be there.
“Pretty little thing,” he muttered, looking at her in a way that made her shudder.
The leader didn’t even glance their way. Watching the treeline, he flared his nostrils as if he were tasting the air.
“Touch her and I take your hand,” he snarled, his voice low and menacing. “Told you. She’s mine first.”
The words sent ice down her spine. She kept her gaze down as the jumpy one huffed and wandered off. Keeping at the frayed place with what remained of the rock shard under her palm, she carried on cutting. Wet heat bloomed where the fibers cut into her wrists, turning the vines red. Good. Blood meant a marker.
“Humans scream so pretty,” the mean one chuckled. “And imagine what she’ll sound like after I’ve had her for a day.”
The others laughed, a grating sound that shattered the quiet night.
“Gonna make it last,” he continued, his voice filled with malice. “Break her real slow.”
“Bit by bit,” another agreed, smacking his lips in anticipation. Their words painted ugly pictures, each more disgusting than the last.
The leader’s wrong joints flexed as he stood up. “Others near. We go.”
Others. Her blood turned to ice. Shit. How many more were there?
The ferals closed in with predatory grace. She had three seconds before they’d be on her. Her fingers scrambled against the rough bark, palming the jagged stone shard. The sharp edges bit into her skin as she folded her fist around it, tucking it tight against her palm just as calloused hands reached for the bindings at her wrists. The stone felt pathetically small in her grip, but it was all she had.
She needed to keep it hidden. Keep it safe.
The leader's fingers brushed her arm as he worked at the knots, and she forced herself to stay limp, not flinching away from his touch, even though every instinct screamed at her to fight.
As the leader reached down to yank her to her feet, she squeezed hard to well blood between her fingers, letting it drop down the post in trails of bright red.
Not an accident. A sign.
The leader crouched down in front of her, his dull red eyes fixed on her face as he wound the coarse rope around her wrists. His breath washing over her face smelled metallic and wrong, like sucking on pennies and the rope bit deep into her wrists. The coarse fibers scraped raw against her skin, but she kept her face blank, even as the leader pulled the binding tight enough to make her bones creak.
"Think she can even understand us?" The mean one leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. "Maybe she's too stupid to be scared. Some of these humans are dumb as draanth."
The scratchy vine came next, wrapping around her ankles with jerky, violent motions that yanked her legs together. Her broken leg screamed, but she bit down hard on her tongue. Blood pooled in her mouth again.
The leader's head tilted as he studied her. "Smart meat," he murmured. "Knows when to keep her mouth shut."
Then he moved and hefted her across his shoulder, the hard plates of his armor digging into her stomach. Every step jarred her broken leg into a white-hot flare that made her vision swim. Grinding her teeth, she breathed shallowly and fought the urge to be sick all down his back.
His hand clamped across the backs of her thighs, and brush slapped past her face as they carried on through the forest. Working the only plan she had, she squeezed the sharp stone in her palm and let the blood fall in drops to the ground.
Onto pale leaves. Flat stones. Light bark.
The mean one walked close behind them, his breathing harsh and eager. The skin between her shoulder blades crawled. He was looking at her, she was sure of it, even though she couldn't see him.
"When we get there, I make her beg."
The leader whirled around and snarled at him. "You touch her, and I take your fingers."
The mean one laughed, low and hungry.
The jumpy one muttered from somewhere behind them, "Storm coming. Move faster."
Fat raindrops started to fall, cool against her overheated skin. Shit. The rain would wash away the blood trail.
But someone would come looking. They had to. Liam and Caleb would be found when the morning shift arrived. Her stomach lurched as her memory replayed the moment Caleb had crashed into the concrete and slid, boneless, to the ground. Tears burned the back of her eyes... hopefully they were both okay. Or if not, help got to them in time.
