Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Hush, pet,” Logan croons, grinding his hard dick against me. “You alert the girls in that tent and I’ll be forced to cut their pretty throats.”
All I can do is stare up at the monster, helpless in his trap. Tears prickle at my eyes and silently spill over. He grins wide before crudely licking the side of my face. I shudder at his touch, a whimper crawling out of me.
“You taste so good when you cry.” He slowly rubs his dick against me as though he’s enjoying the look of pure terror on my face. “Imagine my surprise when we stumbled upon your little hiking party. I thought I’d find the other runaways, not my naughty pet and my wicked wife.”
I reach out, hoping to grab hold of the rifle. He sees my efforts and thwarts them immediately, digging the knife harder into my flesh.
“Please,” I beg. “Please don’t hurt me.”
Logan laughs, dark and nefarious. “Oh, pet, your whole life will be nothing but pain for my pleasure. Get used to it.”
My other hand curls around a thin stick. It’s a weapon. Not the most powerful one, but it’ll do. I only have one shot. With a roar, I swing the stick toward Logan’s head, shoving the stick right into his ear. The effect is immediate. He howls, falling away from me and grabbing his ear. I scramble over to the rifle while he wails. Before I reach it, he goes quiet. Swinging around, I aim the rifle at him.
Or, where he just was.
He’s already across the meadow and racing up the hill. I pull the trigger, recoiling with the kick of it. Logan jerks but keeps going, disappearing over the hill.
Another person grabs onto me and I cry out, trying to shake them off, when I realize it’s Kristen.
“He’s gone,” I assure her, my voice raspy.
I just hope he’s gone for good.
* * *
* * *
The crack of a rifle going off echoes through the trees.
Fuck.
Rowdy was right. He did hear something, which is why we’re out here checking things out. I’m praying it’s a bear or a mountain lion or a goddamn squirrel at this point. What I don’t want it to be is people. People means the kidnappers have found us and I can’t stomach what that would mean for us.
Crouching behind a tree, I scan the forest, looking for any movement. The wind rustles the leaves and makes the trees groan, sending chilly air whispering over my face, but nothing else can be seen. Slowly, I start making my way back over to the camp to check on Ronan and the girls.
From the distance, I can hear crunching through brush as though someone is running. It could be Rowdy, but the hairs prickling at the back of my neck tell me it’s not. I stealthily make my way toward the sound, my knife in hand, sharp and ready.
I can’t find anyone, but I do come across a trail of blood droplets dotting leaves and smeared along tree trunks. Based on the distinct boot mark in a muddy section of the ground, it’s apparent it’s from a human.
Double fuck.
But I only heard the one shot. My hope is that Rowdy or Ronan took care of whoever it was. It’s likely the hunting group of kidnappers ran into our camp, but I’m hoping the hell not.
One shot versus three people.
That means, if that’s what I’m facing here, there are two more in their group. Armed and dangerous. I’m thankful I left Ronan with a weapon to keep himself and the girls protected.
Rather than chase after the injured person who’ll no doubt die if they keep losing blood, I go after the other two. The forest grows unusually quiet. All I can hear is the whistling wind and the thrumming in my ears in tune with my heartbeat. With the absence of chirping birds, it could mean there are people nearby.
A person steps to the side from behind a tree, revealing their back. Even from fifty or so yards away, I can tell he’s not one of my brothers. If I had my rifle, I could raise it and shoot the man. Instead, I have to rely on the element of surprise and my knife. I’ve barely made it three steps when something snaps behind me.
Whirling around, I recognize Michael charging for me. He swings his own rifle at me. Lifting my arm, I attempt to block it, but he uses enough force that it glances off my arm and still slams into the side of my head.
Thwump.
I fall heavily to the ground, desperately fighting the hammering in my skull and shrinking vision. The forest spins around me, but I manage to roll onto my back just as he launches himself at me.
“I’m going to enjoy beating you to death, you useless piece of shit,” Michael snarls, slamming the butt of his rifle against my face.