“Jesus Christ,” she whispered.“Jesus fucking—”
Her gaze darted back to the scattered cigarettes.Grabbing one, she shoved it between her lips and struck another match, lighting it before the flame could burn her fingers again.Holding it clenched between her teeth, she folded forward and pressed the glowing ember to the zip tie.
Instantly, heat bit into her skin, the sharp chemical stink of melting plastic filling the air.She jerked back with a muffled cry, fighting to keep hold of the cigarette while smoke flooded her nostrils and stung her eyes.One breath—then another—and she forced herself to press the burning tip back against the plastic…and her skin.
Slowly, and so fucking painfully, the zip tie softened and warped beneath the heat.Cassie twisted hard against it, forcing her wrists apart until it finally snapped loose, the broken tie dropping into the dirt.
Not wasting a second, she pulled the cigarette from her mouth and pressed the burning tip against the plastic at her ankles.
The second zip tie split, Cassie lurched upright too fast and nearly fell, catching herself on the wall.She sagged there for a moment, breathing through the dizziness and fighting the urge to collapse.
Her legs didn’t feel like hers.Too light.Too slow to answer.Pins and needles stabbed through her feet each time she shifted her weight, the dirt floor tilting beneath her as the edges of her vision flickered in and out.
Steeling herself, she pushed off the wall and forced herself toward the ladder, just barely managing to catch the last rung with both hands.The sudden strain sent pain shooting through her wrists and straight through her head, nearly knocking her down again.
Breathing hard through it, Cassie hauled herself upward with a strangled groan, shoulders trembling with the effort as she fought to get one foot onto the bottom rung.Once she managed it, she climbed one creaking rung at a time until the square opening loomed just above her head.
She paused, pressing her ear to the cool wood and listening—nothing.Or nothing she could hear over her own wild pulse.
She tested it.The door didn’t move.
Cassie pushed harder, shifting her grip, bracing her shoulder against the wood and trying again.
As a fresh wave of panic began to swallow her waning resolve, she slammed her shoulder upward and shoved with all her might, feeling it give just a fraction before settling back into place.
Not locked,she thought, relief flooding her.Blocked.
She strained upward again, forcing it inch by inch, whatever sat on top scraping as it shifted—slow and stubborn—until the hatch finally gave and pushed open.
Cassie surged up with it, bursting through into daylight as she pulled herself onto the wooden floor.
It looked like any other hunting cabin.
A small table lay tipped nearby, knocked into a sagging sofa.The edge of a rug bunched beneath both.Two mismatched chairs sat crooked around it.A wood stove in the corner.A pair of camouflage boots by the door.
Cassie moved fast, scrambling to her feet, crossing the room in unsteady steps and grabbing for the door.The knob wouldn’t turn, the mechanism catching beneath her hand, no lock in sight.She spent precious seconds searching for some kind of latch, a keyhole, anything, before turning to the windows and shoving at the nearest frame with both hands.It didn’t budge.The second was the same—paint sealing the sash tight, the wood fused in place.
She spun, scanning, as every passing second sent fresh panic clawing higher.A narrow bathroom alcove caught her eye, and she ducked inside, reaching for the small window over the sink.It held firm, sealed tight along the edges, no give no matter how hard she pushed.
Racing back to the living room, she searched frantically for anything she might’ve missed when a sound reached her—low at first, then building.She shot toward the window, easing the curtain just enough to see.Beyond, trees stretched out in every direction, the long drive cutting through them in a narrow, overgrown line—
—and a silver pickup truck making its way up it, headed straight for her.
Her stomach dropped hard enough to make her sway.She backed away from the window, her gaze raking the room, her mind racing ahead of her, searching, rejecting, circling back before darting toward the kitchen, wrenching open cupboards and drawers—junk, empty, nothing—until finding a shallow tray of mismatched silverware.Among it all, a small steak knife.
Grabbing the knife, she rushed back to the door just as the engine outside cut off.Flattening herself against the wall, she forced herself still even as her pulse thrashed out of sync and the knife trembled in her grip.
Outside, a door creaked open.Then slammed shut.
Footsteps followed, crunching over gravel and brush, drawing closer.
Cassie held herself still, every muscle drawn tight, listening as the steps reached the other side of the door.
Keys struck metal.A pause.Then the knob turned.
The door opened inward, swinging wide and blocking her from view.It thudded shut behind a tall, slim figure—
—who took one look at the mess by the hatch and spun straight toward her.
