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Two of his cousins pulled him from the water onto the rocks. One beat his back a few times to get the water out of his lungs. Fox’s body lurched with the impact of the blows against his back, but after the third hit, he coughed, sputtering as water spilled from his lips.

I sagged in Brett’s arms again, fresh tears bursting forth to see him alive.

With his face half in shadow and half in moonlight, I made out fresh bruises and knicks on one side of Fox’s face from being held against the rocks of the creek bed. The sight made me want to shoot every other man present.

The second I get my hands on Ben’s shotgun...

My lip curled as I glared at them all. My face burned with perpetually wind-nipped cheeks and eyes red and puffy from my hysterical crying.

The hell they put us through was going to be repaid. One way or another.

A sudden calmness came over me. The vow of revenge was all I needed to refocus.

With a serenity that bordered on madness, I asked Gavin, “Did you really do it? Did you really kill the truck driver?”

Gavin’s head tilted to the side, gold eyes glowing in the dark. “A shame you didn’t get to see my handiwork.”

My stomach churned, everything I ate an hour ago threatening to come back up.

Gavin chuckled, sickly proud of what he did and no longer caring what he said around me since I already confessed to knowing everything. “Maybe it’ll be on the news soon.”

Him, I whispered to myself, fixing a mental target on Gavin’s chest. Him and Arthur. They’ll get the worst retribution.

“Gavin,” Brett barked. “Arthur didn’t tell us how to punish him or what to do with her.”

Gavin’s lips puckered into a sneer. “I know that. So where is he?”

“I don’t know. I thought he told you.”

“Well, he didn’t.”

Sharing looks amongst themselves, they all seemed at a loss as to what to actually do with us. Kill us? I hoped not. Toss us in the creek? Probably.

Fox was attempting to pull himself up, but the moment he was on his feet, Gavin snapped, “Grab him! Don’t let him sneak off again.”

Not that he would have. Fox watched me carefully, clearly in no mood to leave me behind with this lot.

“So, what should we do with them?” Brett reiterated. Like he was already bored of holding me.

Gavin rubbed his smooth-shaven jaw, glaring at the ground in thought. Then he snapped his fingers. “We’ll lock them up in the fishing cabin. Someone can guard it. I doubt Foxy here is in any position to shift. If he tries to run, kill the girl.”

I wasn’t even phased at this point. Another death threat. Another risk to my life. Another impossible situation laid out before me.

It never ended, did it?

Without ceremony, the half dozen men started moving, dragging me and Fox along through the moonlit forest with rough maneuvers. I either moved my feet, or I was dragged over rocks, roots, and thorny thistles.

Whenever I could, I chanced a glance at Fox, finding his head hung low and all the fight gone out of him. That was twice now his family almost killed him. Twice that I knew of.

Later. I would ask him later how many times he nearly died by their hands. Then that would be the number of hours I made Gavin and Arthur suffer the worst torture I could come up with.

Though I’d never struck myself as the revengeful, murderous type, it was easy to conceive this. Easy to picture Gavin and Arthur tied to a stake while I lit a match under their feet.

If my friends survived the night, I wouldn’t be able to tell them about this. That I’d finally gone over the edge. That I was abused, neglected, and burning with rage of my own. Now that I’d found my outlet, it was hard to imagine ever going back to the version of myself I acted out to seem normal to the rest of society. That happy-go-lucky girl was gone. Dead. Ripped out from under my sister’s bed and thrown into a freezing lake. The girl who clawed up the bank now was a monster.

“Move your feet,” Brett snarled, shoving me along when I stared a little too long at Fox.

The cabin appeared in snatches at first—glimpses of cedar shingle siding and windows reflecting moonlight and silver water. The whole place smelled damp, a little lake for fishing not far off with footpaths beaten into the earth all around.