Something shifts in the darkness behind me, and I slow my ministrations to listen. My breathing stalls as I wait for the rustling noise again. There’s another snap—somewhere beyond the tree line, and a new panic blooms in my gut.
I can’t decide if I want it to be Noah or would prefer to know he’s safe somewhere, and I don’t know what’s worse: the idea someone may be coming or the thought there’s something stalking the camp in the woods. Something that sees me as a convenient snack chained to the tree.
Glancing over my shoulder, a shadow shifts in the night, growing larger and larger, and then it moves.
Four legs. A long snout. Shaped low to the ground. It immediately registers—it’s an animal. Not Noah.
Glowing eyes catch the slant of moonlight streaming through to the forest floor, and a sleek, muscular form steps into view. A dog.
It’s dark, but the coat is tan—oh hell. Max!
I glance at Raven, gauging his attention, but he’s caught up in conversation.
Max stops several feet away, nose to the ground. Then his head snaps in my direction and he scents the air. I don’t breathe. I don’t move. Worried he’ll jump and make noise enough to alert the men.
Almost as if knowing, Max approaches slowly, most of his body hidden behind the tree. He sniffs and nudges my shoulder.
“Hi,” I whisper.
Max looks around, lowers his head, and growls into the camp.
“Shh, Max.”
He growls louder, cutting through the scrape of hands and thuds of objects rattling the line of plastic tables.
My mind races, and I try again. “Nien.”
His mouth snaps closed, but it’s too late.
Against the shuffle of papers, the crinkle of plastic, and the skittering of tools is thecrackof his gun.
A bullet whizzes past me, and I scream, struggling against the chains to turn. To see.
Raven’s arm is raised, a pistol in hand.
“No!” I yell, then seek out Max. I listen for a yelp, anything.
I can’t breathe, can’t think. His name tears from my throat over and over.
But there’s nothing.
Where did he go … What if he’s out there alone and hurt?
“Max!” My cries turn into sobs as Raven approaches the stump and gazes into the tree line. “You bastard!”
His arm shifts, the weapon now trained at my chest. His eyes narrow again on the necklace. He stares and grits out a warning to his men. “He’s here. Get ready.”
Chapter 33
Noah
Max sniffs the air, and I fight the urge to move out from my hiding spot in the underbrush. The shadows of large trees hover over me, providing perfect cover.
My stomach is in my throat. He chained her to a tree. More like a rotten down stump, but it doesn’t matter—the thought alone has me glitching.
I’ve trained for this, drilled it every other weekend, and work it every day—it’s muscle memory. Or should be. Instead of the knowledge I know is there, panic surges through me. I’m not with my unit. I have no backup.
Max is nearing the stump, sure to alert to Lily any moment now.
