The rage-fueled Turner wasn’t far behind and managed to grab her by the hair, pulling her back and sending her flying onto her backside. Too far away from the woods.
“You bitch!” Turner cursed, looming over her, “I knew it was you when I saw those footprints!”
Corabeth fought to keep the terror on her face as she crawled back, just a few feet closer to the tree line. She wanted to ask why he was so certainshewould be the only woman to wish them harm. Surely, they had assaulted others. If not Ely, then Turner most certainly had.
“Please,” she pleaded once more, the word making her sick to her stomach, “I didn’t do anything.”
She managed to crawl a few more feet before Turner stepped over her and slapped her. Pain exploded on the side of her face, and for a moment, she could only hear ringing in her left ear.
“Stay back!” she called more to Rooke than Turner. She had heard the rustle of branches somewhere behind her and knew that Rooke was most likely eager to rip Turner to shreds for that hit.
“What did you do to my brother?” Turner demanded, screaming so hard that his spit landed on her cheek. His hands were balled into fists at his side so tightly, his knuckles had turned white.
He was being too loud.
Corabeth had to think fast.
Before she could properly clear the ringing from her head, Turner grabbed her by the front of her dress, hauling her upright.
“You always were a liar,” he spat, shaking her furiously.
Corabeth’s knee shot up, slamming between his legs, making him double over. She wrenched herself free from Turner’s weakened grip and staggered back. The mist that pooled around her feet was thicker now. An assurance.
The bait had been cast, Turner had taken it, and now it was time to reel him in.
“Your brother got what was coming to him,” Corabeth taunted, backing away from the quickly recovering Turner. “He was a slimy worm, and he died like one.”
Rage ignited in Turner anew, and he launched after her, pure murder in his eyes. Corabeth turned and ran straight into the woods, the rage-blinded Turner on her heels.
She passed the first tree, but still she kept running. Some primal part of her told her to keep going, to get away from the threat. Corabeth stopped only once she realized she couldn’t hear steps behind her. Had Turner seen through her? Had he not entered the woods?
Everything around her was unnaturally still as she spun around in the thick fog. As if she had been alone all this time.
“Rooke?” she called out, her voice breaking.
She forced down ragged breaths as her heart beat furiously against her ribcage. Not a leaf stirred. Not a branch moved. Until Corabeth spun and all of a sudden, Rooke’s great shadow loomed over her.
“I’m here,” he said, reaching for Corabeth. Something heavy hit the ground next to him.
“Are you alright?” Rooke asked, carefully examining the side of Corabeth’s face where she could barely feel a throbbing pain.
“What happened? Where’s Turner?” she asked. Only then did her eyes land on the unmoving figure on the ground beside Rooke. Turner lay on the snow, face down, at their feet.
“He’s unconscious,” he assured her, not turning his attention away from her. “Are you alright?” he repeated his question.
Corabeth exhaled, letting her shoulders relax a fraction. “I’ve had worse,” she said with a bitter smile. “Let’s go.”
Rooke nodded reluctantly and picked up the unconscious Turner by the scruff of the neck, dragging him along as if he was nothing but a light inconvenience until the mist swallowed them.
Twenty-four
Corabeth
Turner was slumped against a tree, head hanging on his chest. Before him, Corabeth stood transformed. She had shed the dress from her past, replacing it with one that had a deep red velvet bodice and a voluminous black skirt. The well-structured top had silver buttons running down the front. The sleeves were long and puffed at the shoulders. A delicate black chain draped from the waist. The heavy skirt pooled around her like a shadow.
Corabeth stood some feet away, back rigid, and looked down on the man who had tormented her. She nodded once.
Rooke poured a bucketful of icy water on the unconscious man, who jolted awake instantly. Eyes wide, he immediately started shivering from the cold, his soaked shirt clinging to his chest.
