Who’s coming for me now? Is this just my lot in life? To spend every moment at the mercy of violence?
The storm continues to rage on just outside our shelter, but it’s nothing compared to the terror in my veins. Zane’s body is between me and the hole we fell through, and thanks to the bright lightning outside and the lattice slats surrounding this trailer, I was able to see that his gun is aimed straight ahead.
Will he really pull the trigger?
“Zane!” A masculine voice calls out above the storm.
“Down here!” he yells back. “Come on, Tessa, we’re safe now.” He releases my hand and starts crawling forward.
But I don’t move. Safe? I don’t even know the meaning of the word.
My body trembles, and it has nothing to do with the cold.
Zane’s hand finds mine again, and he gently tugs. “Come on, we’re okay.”
I can’t even find the words to respond as I crawl through the mud toward the hole. The good news is that I can’t even feel the pain in my thigh, though after this, I imagine it’ll be particularly sore.
Still, at least, we’re alive.
We reach the hole, and large hands reach down. Zane pulls me forward, and I reach up, letting myself be pulled from the hole. The moment I’m on solid ground, a blanket comes around my shoulders.
I’ve never met the man in front of me. He towers over me, and his size rivals that of a linebacker. But his eyes are kind though his expression is hard.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod, then turn as a man who has his back to me helps Zane from the hole. The moment I see his face, the icy terror returns. Crimson streaks down the side of his face, mixing with the mud from beneath the trailer. “You’re bleeding!” I shove the blanket from my shoulders and start forward, but a large hand from the man behind me grips my arm.
I go completely still, freezing in place.
“Let her go,” Zane orders. His voice might as well be coming from underwater, though, because all I can feel is the large hand gripping my upper arm.
Rough hands. Strong hands. Hands that hurt. Breathe, Tessa.
The man releases me, but I still don’t move. My gaze is fixated on the blood smearing the right side of Zane’s face. It drips down onto the collar of his shirt, leaving a trail of red amidst the smudges of brown.
“Did you see who it was?” Zane questions.
The man with his back still to me shakes his head. “They were gone by the time we got here. Likely saw our headlights in the distance.” His voice is familiar, beyond familiar really, so when he turns toward me, I shouldn’t be so surprised.
Weston Hayes and Zane were best friends growing up. He has a long beard now, and his eyes are much harder than they once were, but there’s no mistaking him.
“Tessa,” he greets, though his tone is cold. Sharp. Unwelcoming.
Outside, the storm picks up once more. I shiver, and the blanket is placed back around my shoulders by the large man who’d grabbed my arm a few minutes ago. When I look up at him, he offers me a tight expression that is not quite a smile.
I shift my attention away from the giant at my back and focus on the man who saved my life. “Your face,” I say again.
“It’s just a graze,” he says as he reaches up and gently touches the injury.
“I have stuff.” My legs tremble as I move, the pain still just an echo in my mind, given the events we just lived through. I don’t look to see if I’m being followed. I just limp into my bedroom and kneel beneath the foot of my bed. After prying the floor vent open, I reach down and grab a plastic bag.
It’s covered in dust, but the first-aid stuff I’d stashed there to tend to my injuries is still there.
“Tessa.”
I turn at the sound of Zane’s voice. The blood on his face shatters me. I sink to the floor, my shaking legs finally giving out. No matter how hard I’ve tried to keep him out of this hell I live, he always gets pulled right back in.
And this time, I don’t even know why.
