The hand that covered her mouth smelt of dirt and rotten things, as if he’d been digging into the earth to bury bodies long decayed. She’d been focused, she’d been diligent, she hadn’t wavered, but her stalker had been better. She thought it had been Nick playing tricks until the body that pulled her close was too skinny, too hard and then she knew.
She knew.
Her first shriek of alarm had been muffled by the scarf that covered the bottom half of her face and the hand that held it there. Her elbow moved backwards into her attacker’s ribs. But his grunt of pain and jerk of surprise wasn’t enough to dislodge him.
His other hand was quick to snare her waist, draw her against him, worm fingers into skin that was not his to touch. Despite the layers of clothing, the precautions they’d used in an attempt to impede the discovery of her gender were inadequate when hands could fondle her body. He jerked the moment he realised she was a woman. The hiss of elation in her ear turned her stomach, her throat burned with bile.
The nightmare was real. The terrors that she’d been warned of were corporal, living beings that could snatch and prod and poke. Snared, captured, the feverish tirade her brother had garbled with his dying breath about degenerates and rapists was now the song that played in her ears on repeat. She knew it happened, she did. Nick had borne the scars, Lily’s silence screamed a voiceless warning. But she’d been exempt from it all, immune. Safe.
Kira had been safe. And now, she was not.
Her rifle was too big to shoot him. Even with her arms free, his height eclipsed her to the point that any attempt to swing the weapon around and use it as a club was rendered useless. So, she did the only thing she could.
She aimed the butt of the stock downwards and used all her might to ram the thing into his foot.
Unlike hers, his shoes were nothing more than sneakers held together with wire and twine. He grunted, and his grip over her mouth slipped.
She didn’t hesitate.
She screamed.
They both flinched from the wild, female screech that reverberated through the trees. Stealth forgotten, the owners of the smoke were here, if her cry of alarm brought more, she’d risk it. It would also alert Euan and Nick.
She should never have let them leave her sight.
Never would she again.
His grip around her waist was strong, and all attempts to wriggle and squirm to escape were ineffective. But she still tried. She used her short nails to tear at the face and pull at the matted hair that hovered over her shoulder. She kicked with her boots into shins that were covered by clothing that tore with her efforts.
He cursed but did not let go.
His stink was in her nose. Unwashed, dirty, foul. He moved them backwards through the trees. His boots left a trail of displaced leaves. This man had nowhere left to go, there was no force on this earth that would keep her men from her. They were close, she could feel them. She kicked, she clawed. She was small, but she was fed, strong.
Then the cool kiss of a blade was at her throat.
‘You make another move and I’ll cut you.’
His voice was eager, excited. As she squirmed, her greatest fear prodded her through the layers of clothing between them. She squashed that feeling, rode the adrenaline. When she did laugh, it came out as a hysterical giggle, too loud, too sharp. ‘You’re not going to do anything to one of the only women left on this earth.’
At the undeniable feminine lilt to her voice, and the statement of the obvious, his grip faltered.
She was ready. She tore her body from his arms and bolted, another scream erupted from her throat with an abundance of force.
They would find her.
She didn’t look back. It would only waste the precious moments in victory. Nick would locate her. Euan would never stop looking. She just had to get away. She just had to find somewhere to hide. They weren’t far. They were never far from her.
A small voice whispered in her ear. Maybe all their protective requirements weren’t so unnecessary after all.
A body ploughed against her and she tumbled to the ground. She ate dirt. Her breath was knocked out of her. Stunned, listless, it was easy for him to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder.
The sharp angles of the bones that made up his shoulder were painful as they stabbed into her belly, and the lack of air in her lungs was the cause of her gasps. They ran through the trees. Branches whipped at her exposed face, caught in her hair.
Where was Nick, Euan?
It was a sudden realisation. The thought as she hung listlessly over a skinny man’s shoulders, that she was waiting to be rescued.
She could damn well rescue herself.
The man that held her was tall but malnourished. She was small, and he held her tight. But she was also agile.
She twisted. Her breath now in her lungs, she screamed. It wheezed out of her. But it was still a shrill wail. It still could be heard.
But it didn’t matter.
Up ahead was the one thing that could ruin Euan and Nick’s attempt at rescue.
The truck rumbled, loud and ominous. Over his shoulder she couldn’t see it, but the vibrations of its engine reverberated with the call of the damned. If she was ensnared in that vehicle, she would have only a slim hope of escape. She struggled with all her meagre might. She kicked, scratched, fought, railed.
Behind her, the screech of a door swung open to accommodate the oncoming man and his prize.
‘They said not to take prisoners.’
A voice from inside the cab startled her only long enough for her captor to say, ‘He’ll want this one. It’s a woman.’
Four hands were on her. Four hands that gripped, pinched, pulled. Her clothes tore and her hair came loose. Her scarf was gone and her feminine features were visible to the sky.
And to two men whose intentions turned lecherous.
They spoke of foul things even as she struggled. They spoke of their intentions, of their destination and all that she would suffer when she got there.
The back seat of the cab was at her back, her escape almost out of reach. She had a brief moment of reprieve, and she heard him come, she sat up just as Nick crashed through the trees.
Blond hair wild, face of stony determination, eyes no longer green, lost to gold resentment and fury. He raised his rifle but couldn’t fire. She was entangled in them too tightly.
The man in the cab didn’t hesitate. He didn’t have the risk of hitting the woman he loved. The click of a primer was the only warning they had.
The gun fired.
The spatter of Nick’s blood was all she saw. Crimson so bright, it looked unreal. The body of the man she loved, the man she adored, the man she worshipped and revered shuddered, jerked and fell backwards. A face contorted in shock and pain was her last consideration before, in Kira’s surprise, she was manhandled into the cab.
And the truck drove off in a cloud of dust and stones.