The throaty growl of engines grew louder, closer, a predatory symphony that sent a fresh wave of terror through me. Headlights pierced the dense trees, swept across the clearing, and I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for invisibility. The forest floor vibrated beneath me, a testament to the approaching threat. I could hear shouts now, rough and angry, the sound echoing through the silent woods.
They were here.
They had found us. And in that moment, alone and exposed in the heart of the wilderness, the lessons Jackson had taught me, the resilience he had instilled, were the only things standing between me and the encroaching darkness.
Indigo reappeared as silently as he’d vanished, his face a mask of grim determination. “They’re searching the perimeter,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the encroaching sounds of the engines. “We have to move now.”
He grabbed my hand again, his grip firm, pulling me further into the tangled undergrowth. The forest floor, once a soft carpet of pine needles, was now a treacherous obstacle course of roots and fallen branches. Every rustle, every snap of a twig, felt like a gunshot in the suffocating silence. He was a ghost, a shadow, his movements fluid and practiced, while I stumbled behind, a raw nerve exposed to the biting night air.
He led me through a narrow ravine, the rocky walls pressing in, a suffocating embrace that mirrored the terror constricting my chest. I could hear them now, closer than ever, their shouts echoing through the trees, the guttural roars of their machines tearing through the night. Indigo pushed me forward, his urgency a palpable force.
“Almost there,” he breathed, his voice strained when seven men appeared out of nowhere, each leering malevolently as they looked at us. Indigo moved me behind him.
“Just give us the bitch and no one has to die.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Indigo said clearly, his hand moving slowly toward his gun. He stood between me and the seven men, his stance firm, his eyes blazing with a dangerous fire. They were a grim-faced lot, their eyes hard and devoid of any remorse. The lead man, a hulking brute with a scarred face, sneered, “You think you can protect her from us? We’re the Death Dogs, kid. We get what we want.”
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoed the growl of their engines. Indigo didn’t flinch. “You might get what you want, but you’ll have to go through me. And I’m not going down without a fight.” His voice was low, steady, a chilling promise that resonated in the silent woods. I could feel the tension radiating from him, a coiled spring ready to unleash its fury. He was Jackson’s chosen brother, a protector just like Jackson, and in that moment, I knew he wouldn’t abandon me.
The Death Dogs all laughed, a harsh, guttural sound that grated on my nerves. “Brave words, asshole. Let’s see how brave you are when you’re bleeding out on the forest floor.” The leader gestured to his men, and they fanned out, their weapons glinting in the dim light.
Indigo growled, his eyes locked on the advancing Death Dogs. The forest floor seemed to vibrate with the intensity of their standoff, the air thick with the scent of pine and imminentviolence. He was a wall between me and the hulking figures, his gun steady in his hand, a silent promise of protection. I pressed myself further into the shadows, the worn hunting knife a cold, familiar weight in my palm, my own breath a ragged whisper against the rising tension.
Jackson’s lessons echoed in my mind—listen, adapt, survive.
This was the ultimate test.
The lead Death Dog, his face a roadmap of old scars, lunged, his men fanning out like a pack of wolves.
Indigo didn’t hesitate.
The forest erupted in a cacophony of gunshots and enraged shouts, a brutal ballet played out under the indifferent gaze of the moon. I scrambled deeper into the undergrowth, the sounds of the struggle a terrifying symphony of chaos. I could hear Indigo’s strained breaths, the guttural snarls of his attackers, and a primal scream ripped from my own throat as I realized he was losing ground. They were closing in, and the darkness that had been my sanctuary now felt like a trap.
With a surge of adrenaline fueled by Jackson’s memory and the desperate need to protect Indigo, I burst from my hiding place, the hunting knife a silver flash in the moonlight. The element of surprise was my only weapon, and I used it, a feral instinct taking over. The Death Dogs turned, their menacing stares shifting from Indigo to me, surprise momentarily eclipsing their aggression. It was a fleeting advantage, but it was enough. Indigo, seizing the opportunity, disarmed two of them in quick succession. The fight for survival had just begun, and the forest, our once-silent witness, now roared with the fury of our struggle when a blur moved past me, shooting rapidly at the Death Dogs, killing them fast, as Indigo did the same.
Indigo’s eyes, wide with a mixture of surprise and relief, met mine as he killed the last of the seven Death Dogs. The forest, which had been a chaotic symphony of violence, fellinto a stunned silence. The bodies of the men lay scattered on the forest floor, their menacing presence extinguished. Indigo, breathing heavily, staggered slightly, his gaze sweeping over the scene, then settling on the newcomer. “You... you couldn’t have gotten here sooner, asshole?” he rasped, his voice rough with disbelief.
The newcomer smirked. “Would you believe I was stuck behind a herd of buffalo?”
Indigo growled, then flipped the man the one-finger bird. “Karlyn, come over here and meet Eros. He’s another brother of Jackson’s.”
“The best brother.” Eros smiled warmly, extending his hand. Taking it, he leaned over and kissed the top of my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Karlyn.” His eyes, though, were assessing, taking in the disheveled state of my clothes, the hunting knife still clutched in my hand, and the raw fear that I was sure was etched across my face. He was built like Indigo, broad-shouldered and solid, but his demeanor was softer, a stark contrast to Indigo’s simmering intensity. He looked like he belonged in the sun, not the shadows.
Indigo, still breathing hard, pulled me closer, his grip firm on my arm. “We need to move, Karlyn, now.” The urgency in his voice was palpable, a stark reminder that the danger was far from over. Eros nodded, his gaze never leaving the surrounding trees, his hand now resting on the butt of his gun. The forest, which had cradled us in its darkness moments before, now felt like a spotlight, exposing us to whatever else lurked in the shadows. The fight was over, but the chase, I suspected, was far from finished.
“Nav got word to Cerberus. He wants her secured fast. Shit is getting bad, and the quicker we get her to Diamond Creek, the better. Cerberus said if they cut off access to the town, to take herto Deadwood. Morpheus will protect her until Jackson comes for her.”
“Yeah, that isn’t happening. I’m not telling Jackson we left his woman with the Brotherhood.”
“May not have a choice, brother,” Eros stated, rubbing the back of his neck. “The Death Dogs are on the move again. And word went out. There is a price on her head. Dead or alive.”
“Shit,” Indigo cursed, looking around at the dead bodies. “We’ve got no choice. We ride hell for leather.”
“And I’ve got your six, brother.”
Indigo nodded, then turned to me. “The ride is going to be rough, and I’m sorry. We are not stopping until you are safely hidden deep within the Silver Shadows. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “Pee now and then run like hell.”
