“There’s no other choice.” Her voice cracked as she said the words. “This is what Wyatt wants. If we let these people take us back to their new compound, they’ll hold us hostage. Even if the feds come in, they won’t give up. We can’t go back.”
Rustling and movement sounded behind her as the others complied. They knew her words were the truth also.
Kori’s eyes never left Wyatt.
Don’t you dare get yourself killed.Don’t you dare.
Wyatt kept his hands raised and his eyes on the men in front of him.
Lord, let Kori listen. Let her get everyone out.
He took another step toward the line of people in front of him.
Then another.
One of the men at the front raised his weapon higher. “Stop there.”
Wyatt stopped.
He let the silence stretch long enough to make sure every eye on the road was on him.
Kori should have had enough time to get into the driver’s seat. With the snow coming down the way it was, he didn’t think anyone would be able to see her do that.
His plan had to work. There was no other choice.
On the mental count of three, he darted toward the tree line.
He hoped to throw these people off enough that Kori could get away.
He ran off the road and into the woods, his boots crashing through the snow. Then he cut through the trees at a full sprint, breathing hard and loud.
Come on. Follow me.
As soon as he hit the trees, he heard the men behind him. Shouts echoed. Footsteps pounded. Bodies shoved through underbrush behind him. At least three of them, maybe four, all moving fast.
He pushed deeper into the woods, weaving between the trees, using the terrain the way he knew how to use it.
Then his boot found ice beneath the snow.
His feet went out from under him before he could catch himself. He hit the ground hard, the impact jarring his whole body.
For a moment he just lay there, the cold pressing against his cheek and the breath knocked clean out of him.
Get up.
He pushed onto his hands and knees. His shoulder throbbed where it had taken the impact first. When he got his feet under him and straightened, his knee sent a sharp complaint up through his leg.
He was moving again before he’d fully registered any of it. But the fall had cost him ground. The nearest man was right there—Wyatt could hear the footsteps, closer than before.
A hand caught the back of his jacket. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Wyatt wrenched free. His arm swung out, and his fist collided with the man’s face.
The impact jarred the man, and he fell back, dazed.
That bought Wyatt a few minutes.
He kept moving.
