Morgan broke into a sprint unlike any he’d ever known. Loose branches pinched and tore at his pants as he left the cabin far behind, pursuing the silhouette ahead. Mason was behind him. At least he thought it was Mason—all he heard were the footsteps fighting to keep up. But Morgan was too fast.
The chase became an uphill scramble, and that was to his advantage. For the first time since Robin had been taken, Morgan believed he had a chance. He thought, if only for a second, that he had luck on his side. Running through the dark woods was one thing, but uphill with a baby in her arms? Forget it. Morgan pushed on, brushing past the trees and pushing away from the trunks with his hands as he passed.
And then a thought hit him.
What if she discarded his baby?
It was as if someone had taken a whisk to his insides. Morgan even felt himself slow as a dizzy feeling struck his head. Would she really do that, he wondered? If Robin was slowing her down, would she do something about it?
He tried not to think about it, only running on as Mason finally caught up to him. His face was a sweat-soaked expression of sheer panic. He glanced at Morgan for a brief second before overtaking him, gun in hand. Morgan didn’t mind—he just hoped somebody would catch up to her in time. The who made no difference.
They ran until they reached a clearing. Erika had stopped and now stood on the edge of a steep drop. Morgan skidded to a stop, and from where he stood it looked like it’d be quite a tumble. His eyes went to Erika, who stood on the edge with a devilish grin and a threatening look in her eyes. In one arm she held Robin, and Morgan was overcome with relief to see him alive. But in the other she held a revolver.
It was aimed at his son.
“Don’t come any closer,” she spat. The way she glanced between him and Mason made her look like a witch. Her back was hunched and black, sweaty hair swished over her shoulders as she turned her head. She kept moving her foot, as if stepping back was an option. And who knew? For her, it probably was. There seemed to be no limit to what she would do.
“You need to calm down,” Mason said, sidestepping the perimeter of the trees.
Morgan watched this with clouded vision. The cramp in his stomach had gone, and now it just felt empty. He felt empty, like he was about to pass out at any moment. The only reason he fought to stay upright was for Robin.
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Erika said. “And you can drop your gun.”
“That’s not going to happen.” Mason softened his tone and glanced at Morgan. He returned his gaze to Erika and took another step with one hand out, slowly approaching. Each time his foot stretched closer to her, Morgan suffered a pang of dread that he was pushing too far. Any minute now, he could take one step too far, and that would be the end. “Listen to me. Whatever problems you have, you can take them up with me. You’ve taken this man’s son, and that’s crossing the line. You and I can deal with our problems together, but you have to hand the boy over to us. Understand?”
“Go to hell.”
“Also not going to happen.”
Morgan took the risk of moving closer, reducing the distance between them. He suddenly remembered he had a gun in his hand, and he was amazed he’d let himself forget it. Was this what adrenaline did to a man? Or was it fear that messed with his thoughts? Both, he figured, but that wouldn’t stop him from finally acting like a man. He raised his weapon and aimed at her. “I’m not messing around anymore,” he said. “Give me back my son.”
“Or what?”
He took another step.
Erika put a foot behind her as if reaching for the ground that wasn’t there. The gun in her hand shook like she was frozen, but the depraved blankness in her eyes posed a different theory. They glistened in the moonlight, tears watering the surfaces. “You don’t understand.”
“Then why don’t you explain it to us?”
“Don’t humor the mad bitch,” Mason yelled.
“Shut up.” Morgan let the gun hang to his side. He moved in, closing the distance between them and locking eyes with Erika. He held her stare and made it feel as if there were only the two of them left in this world—as if she wasn’t alone, and his son’s life wasn’t in her hands. “Go on. I’ll hear your story…”