Page 5 of Hunting Gianna (Stalkers in the Woods #3)

Chapter Three

Gianna

A wall of black clouds rips across the horizon, threatening to swallow the sky.

This is not something I saw coming. It’s too dangerous to stay now.

I work the last stubborn stake out of the ground, laughing in the face of my own scattered fears.

Independence tastes better than I imagined.

Fat drops begin to splatter the hard-packed earth.

The tent almost takes flight before I wrestle it down.

Shove it in my bag. Shove the worry down, too.

A crack of thunder echoes through the trees as I grab my gear and toss it together.

So I'm the fuck-up who can't stick it out in a storm? That's what he would say. But he’s not here to watch me stumble. I’m my own goddamn audience now.

My grin stretches wider than the sky. The wind is ruthless and so am I, refusing to flinch as I haul things into a pile.

They can scatter all they want, and so can I.

I’ll retreat to my car, sit in the warmth and dry off and then come back when it’s clear. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.

Strands of hair whip my face, tangling in my open mouth as I try to go faster, my fingers seizing as I work. The white clouds of morning morphing into something darker, meaner, almost supernatural in the way they draw themselves over my little speck of wilderness.

But the air is electric, surging with a pressure that wraps my chest tight and lets me know just how small I am out here. Just how dangerous this could get if I wait too long. This type of storm isn’t one you fuck around with.

I collapse the poles and almost collapse with them.

The wind catches me as I pack, trying to throw my shit around, but I go faster.

All that wide-open space from before shrinks with the coming storm. Shrinks like the tent when I stuff it, wet and stubborn, into my backpack.

I’m not weak, and I'm not staying to prove anything to him or the impending shit storm about to unleash holy hell down on me.

Finally, I’ve got most of my shit stuffed in my pack and I’m moving.

I break the treeline just as the sky cracks open and swallows me whole.

Trying to keep my feet steady, I march over the mud quickly forming.

There, just up ahead. My car. A soft sigh escapes me as I break into a jog.

My fingers don’t want to work as I grab my keys and fight with the lock.

Click. The door unlocks and I press the button to open the trunk.

I toss my pack, then slide into the driver's seat, every inch of me trembling. I made it. I think I made it.

I want to laugh. I want to cry. I want to pound the steering wheel and give the sky the finger.

Instead, I just hold the keys in my damp hand, hold them with so much relief that I don't feel the water pooling on the seat or the way my hair sticks to the window as I lean back, let the tension unwind, let my body tell me that I actually made it.

Damn, just in time too. Lightning cracks across the sky, narrowly missing the tops of the trees.

Cold seeps in and I need heat. I need warmth. I need to dry off before the chill sets in. Pushing the key into the ignition, I turn it.

A grinding sound cuts my breath..

One more time.

I turn the key and it groans again, mocking me, forcing out any last hope that was left. Then it's quiet. The storm and me. Nothing else. Nothing else except this wet, awful feeling. I hear it in my head now, grinding even though the key is still. Failure. I can't stay out here in this fucking car.

The temperature drops, cutting through my wet clothes. My skin burns with a sudden, violent, hopeless cold. I have to get somewhere warm and dry. Who the fuck knows how long this storm will last?

But I don’t want to move. It’s terrifying out there.

The longer I sit, the harder it gets. Harder and clearer and undeniable.

A cold rush of dread that will drown me before it freezes me if I wait too long.

My breath fogs the windshield, a blur of wet uncertainty, and it’s more than I can handle.

More than I can let in. I shove the door open with all my strength, fighting against the fear of being out here, as I grab the door frame and haul myself into the rain.

I don’t have much left, but I know what I do have. A body that works and a body that will stop working if I don’t find proper shelter.

Pine Ridge Retreat. It can't be far, and I can't be this far gone. Maybe I'm wrong about that too. But maybe not. Maybe not, and that's why I keep running. I need to try.

My body moves without my mind, taking me deeper into a darkness that leaves me guessing.

There should be a trail but I don't see it. I can barely see three fucking feet in front of me. Mud pulls at my feet, trying to pull me into the earth. Almost as if it’s resisting my intrusion on its private moment of rage.

Lost.

My boots slip and so does my mind, my perfectly weak and human mind, until there is only the raw fucking truth left. If I can’t find Pine Ridge, I need to find ranger station, or some kind of shelter. and fast.

And that's why I let all the fear slip away. All of it except the hope, the pure goddamn hope that there is a dirt road waiting, one that will take me to where I need to be. The power of the mind. Manifesting safety. Yes, yes that’s what I’m doing. Something will show and I’ll get to safety .

The forest presses close around me, dark trees creaking as they fight the strength of the wind. The rain is heavy. It bruises my skin as it pelts me.

Each breath cuts my lungs as sharp as the wet branches cutting my face and I just keep running. One foot in front of the other. Maybe I’ll die out here.

Thoughts keep racing through my mind and I don’t know if I can handle it.

Things like this fear.

Things like this hope.

Somehow I’m staving off the concern that I still haven’t found shelter, with the knowledge that I will. I just need to keep trying.

The rain's coming hard and heavy. Sheets of it blur my vision.

I don't care. I keep going, breath short and wild, mud up to my knees.

A rush, a break, I lose my footing, catch myself, palms raw and bloody as I crash onto the ground.

I push forward, desperate. Light flashes through the trees, cracking loudly against the silence.

I inhale and swallow water instead of air, my lungs working overtime just to keep up. Fuck. I choke. Stumble again, my knees hitting the ground, rocks tearing at my skin.

The storm gets louder, wind screaming like a lost god, tree branches bashing against each other, as one cracks and falls in front of me, blocking my path. Fuck . Desperation seeps in. How long has it been?

Damn, this is taking forever. Even my endurance has limits, has limits and beyond, but I won't let this little storm be one of them. The need to push forward outweighs the exhaustion in my thighs.

I feel like I might float away.

Something flashes through the dark. A light. And it’s not lightning.

My saving grace.

I keep going.

One more, one more step. I can taste it. The light doesn't lie. Fight through the burn, breathe. One… two…

I’m right there… so close, I can almost feel the heat from where I’m stumbling.

My legs tremble, and my vision blurs. Safety is just a few meters ahead, but my body refuses to cooperate.

It wants to collapse. I stumble, heart racing, breath tearing through my throat.

I’m almost there. It looms before me, dark and menacing, its edges smearing into the stormy backdrop.

I sway; each step feels like a hard-won prize, each one a promise that I can do this, that I can make it.

But my muscles betray me, refusing to keep moving.

My brain feels foggy, too heavy to think clearly.

My fingers are turning purple, my lips numb.

So… close… don’t stop.

A shadow moves by the window and I can’t tell if it’s real.

Does someone live here? I'm too far gone to know if it's real or care about it anymore.

Suddenly, my legs give out beneath me, and I crawl the last few feet on trembling arms, eyes fluttering shut as everything closes in around me while the rain pours relentlessly down.

I collapse against the steps with an exhausted thud.

The door swings open, its edges sharp and bright against the darkness outside. Hands grip my shoulders gently but firmly; they draw me up and pull me inside. I'm too drained to feel anything else—too exhausted even for fear—as the warmth of the cabin envelops me.

Finally… I can rest.

Darkness eats at my consciousness and claims me as my body sinks into safety.