Page 62 of Mountain Defender

I try to run, but it’s like I’m moving through mud.

Then something heavy crashes into me. Not something.Someone.

I’m knocked to the ground, all the air rushing out of me. As I struggle to breathe, I’m flipped over. My wrists are grabbed roughly and pinned above my head.

In the dim moonlight, angry eyes glare at me.

“You fucking bitch,” the man snarls.

He’s not wearing a mask. I can see his beard. His narrowed glare. The hook of his nose. The scar intersecting his right eyebrow.

Blood streams from a cut on his forehead. A cut I put there?

As I’m still trying to make sense of things, his fist snaps out. Pain explodes as it slams into my forehead. Fog edges into my vision. Everything spins.

“You fucking hit me,” he spits. “You fucking bitch. How the fuck am I supposed to explain this bruise tomorrow?”

For a few seconds, we just stare at each other. My lungs are just starting to work. The fog begins to dissipate. My brain shrieks for me to run again.

I start to buck against his hold, but he climbs onto me and holds me down.

I’ve never felt terror like this before.

“Please,” I wheeze. “Just let me go. I don’t know what you want, but I’ll give you money. I won’t call the police. Just?—”

“I’m already getting money,” he replies. His voice is dark. Malicious. “And there’s nothing you can do. It’s too late.”

Then his hands wrap around my throat.

They squeeze.

I try to get free, but he’s too strong. Too heavy.

My lungs beg for air.

My mind begs silently,Please, no. I’m not ready to die. Not now. Not like this.

But what can I do?

I’m in a narrowing tunnel leading to someplace I don’t want to go.

I want Gage.

I want a chance.

Despair settles over me. Hopelessness.

Then.

Determination.

In a stroke of clarity, I realize thereissomething I can do. It might not work. But at least I can try.

I won’t give up. Not now. Not ever.

“Rory!”

If I can just?—