More than once, Brooke and Steph had discussed ways to do a major event on the cheap. Plenty of famous races started with bare-bones funding, but Steph always came up with an excuse as to why they couldn’t do it.
And now this guy showed up, planning the very thing Steph had dreamed of, and she couldn’t help but take it personally. Brooke decided that reminding Steph she’d had plenty of opportunities for a big race in the past was a bad idea and simply let her talk. Knowing Steph, eventually she’d come to realize the truth.
The play was amazing. It was opening night, and their friend Jocelyn, cofounder of the community theater and a member of their running club, had put on an amazing production. Brooke admired Jocelyn’s creativity.
After the play, Steph and Brooke joined the cast for the afterparty, making for a late night. She’d been a little slow to start this morning, but the run was finally starting to feel like it should.
Brooke rounded a bend, her feet automatically finding purchase on the rocky section. She knew this trail well, having run it dozens of times over the years.
She lost her footing as something slammed into her from the side. The world tilted—trees, sky, ground—and then she was down, rocks digging into her shoulder, her breath gone. She groaned.What just happened?
A hand clamped around her arm and yanked her across the hard ground. The person was big and strong, dressed in dark clothes with a ski mask covering their face, sunglasses in place.
Brooke screamed and twisted, fighting to break free.
A kick hit her hard in the ribs, stealing her breath. The grip tightened, dragging her deeper into the trees. Away from the trail. Away from anyone who might hear.
No, no, no!
She twisted and kicked out. Her shoe connected with something solid. Her attacker groaned, and their hold loosened just enough. She scrambled free and got to her feet, hands still on the ground.
She pushed off, ready to sprint. She made it two steps before a hand caught her jacket and jerked her backward. She stumbled but caught herself and spun around swinging. Her fist grazed the mask.
The attacker grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back. Pain shot up her arm.
She kicked, connecting with a shin. The person didn’t even flinch. Didn’t make a sound. Not a word, not a grunt, nothing but breathing. She raised her knee and connectedagain. The attacker made a fist and punched Brooke in the jaw.
Brooke’s hands went to her face. The attacker shoved her backward, hard. Her foot caught on a root, and she went down, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Stars burst across her vision as pain exploded through her skull.
Get up. Have to get up.But her body refused to listen.
The figure loomed above her, vast and imposing. A boot rose into the air, and Brooke hurled herself aside just as it slammed into the ground where she’d been moments before.
“Hey! What’s going on?”
“Someone call 9-1-1.”
Voices. People on the trail.
The attacker’s head snapped toward the sound, then back to her, and then they bolted, crashing through the trees and disappearing.
Brooke lay there, breathing hard, her head screaming with pain. Warm wetness dampened her scalp. Blood.
“Hurry, she needs help.”
Hikers. Thank goodness.Brooke tried to sit up but only made it halfway before everything tilted sideways.
“Don’t move,” a woman’s voice said, close now. “You’re bleeding. We’re calling for help.”
“Thank you,” Brooke managed. Her voice sounded strange.
“Just stay still, okay? Help’s coming.”
Brooke closed her eyes. Her head hurt. Everything hurt. But she was alive. She’d fought back, and she was alive.
She closed her eyes and let herself relax.
*****
