But this isn’t going to be a long ride.
A smile stretched my lips. No, it wasn’t going to be long.But it will be fun. And fun wasn’t something I got to indulge in very often.
Exiting the gloomy tack room, I squinted in the bright sunlight and slipped the silver-tinted aviators over my eyes. Wings stood obediently by his hobbling post, his equine coat gleaming like the rare black diamonds we mined.
The foxhounds barked and threaded around each other like an organism, never taking their eyes off me as I gathered my reins and placed a foot into the stirrup. Swinging my leg over the massive animal, the rush of being on something so powerful whipped through my bones.
Wings was eighteen hands of pure fucking muscle. He was the fastest horse the Hawks’ owned, excluding my father’s race horse, Black Plague, and he hadn’t been hunting in days.
He pranced in place, his large lungs huffing with anticipation.
The energy vibrating from his bulk infected me, reminding me who I was and the life of privilege I lived.
Twisting his head toward the open grounds of Hawksridge Hall, I dug my spurs into Wings’ side.
An insane surge of power detonated through the animal’s muscles. Wings went from stationary to flying, his hooves clattering with speed. With a sharp whistle, I summoned my canine companions.
The sharp scent of dug-up turf hit my nostrils as we tore across the grass.
I’m coming for you, Nila Weaver.
I’m coming.
Over the roar of galloping thunder, I commanded, “Chase her.”
Chapter Three
Nila
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MY LUNGS BURNED.
My feet stung.
My legs ached.
Every inch of me screamed with fear.
Run. Run.Run.
I lowered my head, pushing harder, forcing my body to find non-existent energy and propel myself from hell toward salvation.
How long did I run? I didn’t know. How far did I get? Probably not very.
But no matter the stitches in my side or the spasms in my lungs, I kept going. Kept running. I thanked God for my endless nights of pounding the treadmill, and for the first time in my life, was thankful for my small chest size.
Shadows chased my every step. The sun remained blocked by the tree canopy. The yellow glow was still light, still bright, coaxing me on, screaming at me to get up when I stumbled, and ordering my tears to stop as I gasped for breath.
I kept running—zigzagging as much as I could, cutting through a stream, and almost rolling my ankle on the slippery rocks below. I did everything I’d ever seen survivalists do when being hunted.
With my heart whizzing, I bypassed woodland trails, avoided muddy paths, and obscured my scent as much as possible.
But I knew in my heart, it wouldn’t be good enough.
He’ll find you.
My body begged to stop and let the inevitable happen. To stoppunishing myself for no purpose. My mind howled in frustration as lactic acid burned in my limbs.
