I released.
My feet hit the ground hard, jarring my knees, and the impact traveled up my legs, rattling my teeth. I barely had time to steady myself, take a breath, and make sure Jade was still secured inside my pocket when something slammed hard into me from the side.
I hit the dirt with a gasp, the breath punched out of my lungs, all the air expelled in one violent rush. Stars burst across my vision, but I caught a flash of gray I thought was Jade, having escaped from inside my hoodie. Just in time, too, because escape wasn’t going to be easy for me.
A weight came down on me, and it took me too long to realize it was a body, solid, heavy, and real. He flung me so my back was pinned to the ground, hovering over me. My mind went dark, a thousand horrific scenarios flipping through my head. At the forefront of those images was my mom and what happened to her when she was just a few years younger than me. Was this how she had felt? Alone? Terrified? Helpless?
He wore a dark mask, covering his features from my eyes and the wrath of my nails. His clothes were all black, blending with the night. But because of what my mom had endured, she taught me to be prepared, to survive, and to fight. This bastard wouldn’t take from me what had been ripped from my mom.
My body moved before my brain fully caught up, memory taking over. Mom’s voice lived in my muscles; in the hours of training she’d drilled into me since I could walk.Use their weight. Use surprise. Make them hurt first. Don’t fight fair—survival isn’t fair.
I drove my knee up with everything I had, aiming for the soft, vulnerable space between his legs, and got the sweet satisfaction when I connected. The loser grunted, his grip loosening fractionally, but it was enough.
I twisted hard, bringing my elbow up into his throat the way Mom had taught me and made me practice until the movementbecame a reflex. I targeted the trachea, the soft hollow that would make him choke, and I prayed to lose focus.
He gasped, his hands flying to his throat instinctively, and I shoved off the ground, my palms scraping against dirt and grass. I rolled sideways to create distance and kicked backward with everything I had, my heel connecting with his ribs or sternum. The specifics didn’t matter as long as it got the job done. My foot was another matter, but I’d sustain some pain if it meant my freedom.
The bastard stayed on the ground, groaning, and I didn’t wait to see if he’d get back up. Scrambling to my feet, I fucking ran. Rocks and twigs cut through my socks as I tore through the yard and into the darker stretch beside the house, not thinking about direction or destination, just survival. Behind me, I heard him get up and mutter a curse.
He was coming after me far quicker than I would have liked.
“Shit.” The word came out of me as a sob. If I could get to my neighbors, I might have a chance. My lungs burned, the world blurring into shadows and the pale slash of moonlight through the trees. I couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead, couldn’t tell if I was running toward safety or into a trap?—
A hand slammed into my back.
I pitched forward, a scream ripping from my throat as I hit the ground again, this time harder. The air left my lungs in a violent rush, stars bursting behind my eyes. He was on me before I could recover. A hand fisted into my shirt and yanked me onto my back as he straddled me. “Relax. I just want to talk, kid. Don’t make me hurt you.” He had a deep, rich voice, a bit gruff, but I didn’t recognize it, nor the eyes glaring at me through the mask, and I got the inkling he would take pleasure in hurting me. It was the gleam in his eyes, daring me to test him.
My chest heaved. “This doesn’t feel like much of a friendly conversation.”
His fingers cinched around my arm as he dragged me up and shoved me back into the tree, bark scraping against my spine. “Where’s Mara?” he demanded.
My stomach dropped.
Mom?
What did he want with my mom?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snapped, twisting against him. As if I was going to give up my mom. I would never.
His hand shot up, catching my jaw, forcing my face forward. “Don’t play stupid with me. Where is your slut of a mother?”
Was he someone from her past? A family member from one of the guys she’d killed? It was possible. I couldn’t think of another reason why he’d break into our house looking for my mom. It frightened me more that he’d been able to track us to Elmwood.
“Where is she?”
“Go to hell.” I spat in his face. Perhaps not the smartest move, but I was doing my darndest to keep a level head.
He slammed my head into the tree, and white-hot pain exploded through my skull as I struggled to stay conscious. His grip pressed painfully into my chin line. “You’ve got her mouth,” he muttered. “And no respect. Same as her.”
My pulse spiked, and I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood. The coppery taste touched my tongue, but the pain helped me focus. So he knew her, but how?
His attention shifted just for a second, detecting something in the trees, and it was the opening I needed.
I moved.
Fast.
My hand shot back, fingers closing around the knife tucked at the waistband of my shorts. I wrenched it free and drove it backward with everything I had.
