By the time I slow, my chest is heaving and sweat’s glued my shirt to my back. I brace one forearm against a tree trunk and lock my elbow, trying to breathe through the stitch stabbing my side.
Air in. Air out. Again.
Tiny victory, I think wildly. I lost him.
The thought barely forms before the woods shift around me and everything goes wrong.
It’s the silence first.
Birdsong cuts off so abruptly it feels physical, like a hand flattening over the mouth of the morning. The insects don’t stop completely, but the rhythm shifts. The hair rises on my arms.
I straighten too fast and turn, teeth already bared.
“Ever?”
Nothing. No Ever. No answer. No annoyed voice telling me I’m making this harder than it has to be.
A twig snaps somewhere behind me. Too close. Deliberate. The sense of being watched hits so hard my stomach drops.
“This isn’t funny,” I call, louder now, forcing my voice steady. “I’m not doing some cat-and-mouse thing with you.”
No answer.
The trees all look the same. Brush. Moss hanging in gray sheets that hide too much. Heat. No clear line back to the house. No clear line anywhere.
Every bad decision I’ve ever made seems to arrive at once and stand in a circle around me.
Run.
I pivot toward another sound. That’s when somebody grabs me from the other side.
Pressure slams into my arm and then a hand bands across my throat, jerking me backward so hard my skull clips bark. Thought disappears. My body takes over, pure animal panic. I claw at the arm, kick, twist, try to drop my weight.
He’s behind me. Bigger. Keeps me pinned between him and the tree.
I bite.
My teeth sink into flesh, and he grunts, curses low and hoarse, yanks me harder. Another arm snakes around my middle and drags me back flush to his chest.
Something sharp scrapes across my side—hot and fast. A bright sting blooms under my ribs and vanishes under the tidal surge of adrenaline.
No. No no no?—
I kick backward like a mule and catch shin or ankle. He stumbles, swears again, grip tightening at my neck.
“Easy there.”
The whisper scrapes every nerve raw. Cold terror punches through the adrenaline. Secondary location. Don’t let him move you. Don’t let him?—
I scream. I throw my head back. My skull connects with something hard but I don’t get the satisfying crunch I’m praying for. My throat burns from the effort. I taste copper. My heel slams back again and again.
And then the woods explode to my right.
Ever comes out of the brush hard and fast, all unleashed violence and no warning. He doesn’t yell my name. Doesn’t posture. Doesn’t waste a second.
He hits my attacker with a brutal punch to the jaw that snaps the man’s head sideways but doesn’t break his hold. Ever pivots, drives in closer, and hooks a hand around the arm at my waist. His thumb digs somewhere near the wrist and the man makes a strangled noise, grip loosening just enough.
“Drop,” Ever snaps.
