His gaze slid from Heather to me and stayed there, possessiveand calm, as he lifted the weapon. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and warped under the mask.
“I told you you were always going to be mine.”
I screamed, the sound shredding my throat, as he flipped the hatchet so the blunt side faced out and swung it sideways.
The wooden handle slammed into the side of Max’s head with a sickening crack.
His knees buckled, and he crumpled face-first into the dirt.
Was he dead? Was he fucking dead?!
“MAX!”
He wasn’t dead. His chest still rose and fell—barely—but he wasn’t moving.
Please, God, let him be okay.
Something heavy shifted in the dirt behind me.
I didn’t have time to turn before fingers closed around my arm.
32
MACKENZIE
Istumbled back, branches clawing at my arms like hooked fingers, moss slick beneath my shoes. My palms slapped against rough, wet bark, splinters biting into my skin as I fought not to go down.
Then something yanked me off balance.
I didn’t even have time to scream.
I kept my eyes fixed on Max’s lifeless form until I was dragged through the underbrush, my nails gouging furrows in the forest floor, scrabbling for anything to hold onto. Rotting leaves filled my mouth and nose, damp earth grinding against my teeth. Every instinct in my body shouted to fight, to run, but Jackson’s monster dragged me along as if I weighed nothing at all—like I was already dead weight.
My legs slammed into rocks as he dragged me, each jagged edge tearing into my skin. Hot lines of pain burned down my calves. I tried to scream, but more leaves muffled me, forcing the sound back down my throat until it tasted like blood and dirt.
I twisted and thrashed, nails tearing at his arm, heels scraping uselessly against the earth. My muscles spasmed with panic. I could feel myself weakening, every pull stealinganother piece of my strength. I was losing this fight, and he knew it.
Jackson grunted in irritation. His fingers clamped tighter around my ankles, the pressure so fierce I heard a tiny, horrible crack.
“Stop,” I choked, the word scraping out of my bruised throat. “Let me go.”
He stopped.
For a heartbeat, the world went silent. No wind. No insects. Just the pound of my pulse roaring in my ears. Then his fingers slid into my hair, slow and deliberate, before he yanked my head back so hard a white flash exploded behind my eyes.
“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed, his voice so close I could feel every word vibrate against my skull.
Terror flared through me. My vision blurred. The trees around us seemed to lean in, their branches skeletal, watching me.
“Help!” I screamed, the sound tearing my throat raw. “Someone HELP ME!”
The words echoed into the dark, swallowed almost instantly, as if the night itself didn’t want anyone to hear me.
Somewhere behind us, something moved. I heard the soft crunch of leaves, a low creak, like wood bending. For one wild second, hope clawed its way up my chest.
“Please!” I sobbed. “Over here!”
Jackson went still, his grip tightening around my wrists now until my fingers went numb. Slowly, he lifted his head, listening.
