Page 7 of Outbreak (Revolution X #1)

CHAPTER 6

Rue

T he second my eyes try to flutter open, I know something is wrong. My brain feels cloudy, heavy with fog weighing me down, making it hard to take in my surroundings.

Where am I?

What the fuck happened?

I try to sift through my memories, but it’s all a blur at the moment. My arms ache, and when I try to stretch them, I can’t pick them up.

“What the fuck?” I mumble to myself, peeling my sandpaper eyelids open, squinting at the ropes twisting around my arms, securing my wrists together. There’s a piece of rope attached that leads to—a dash? I’m in a vehicle. Trying to sit up, my eyes dart around me. I’m alone—in a truck? It’s parked in front of gas pumps. My eyes shift to the building beside me. The windows are blocked out with ad posters, so I have no idea who’s inside. Or who took me.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to force my memories to the surface. The party with Noah and Mel. Finding Josh. The guy in a mask—oh hell no! That motherfucker! He fucking drugged me? Tied me up in his truck, and what? Left me at a goddamn gas station in the middle of nowhere?

I think the fuck not!

My fingers immediately find my blade. Thank fuck it’s still strapped to my thigh. The asshole must not have noticed it. Small mercies and all that. It takes a few tries to get it out of its sheath with my hands bound together, but once it’s out, I make quick work of freeing myself from the ropes and disconnecting the tether to the dash. I’m not sticking around for this fucker to come back. I’ve been on the receiving end of enough evil men to know nothing good comes to those who sit by and hope for the best. I’m getting the fuck out of here right now.

Reaching for the door handle, I curse a colorful string of explicits when the door won’t open. Even after unlocking it, it won’t budge. Leaning over to the drive side, I try that door, and to my surprise, it opens right up. I’m up and over the center console in a hot second, slamming the door open and bolting around the gas pumps. Once I’m in the open, I spin around in a circle, quickly scanning the area for the best route.

We’re literally in the middle of nowhere.

I don’t recognize anything around me, which isn’t a shocker. There’s a field across the street and woods surrounding the gas station on the sides. Hauling in a deep breath, I shake my head to clear the haze that’s making me dizzy and try to figure out what the fuck to do. The woods will provide more coverage to hide should the asshole try to find me. I’m betting he will most definitely look for me. He went through a lot of trouble taking me, and since he drugged me, I’d venture to say this was a planned kidnapping.

I have no idea who the guy is. His face has been covered by a black mask. A shiver runs down my spine when I picture it. I remember in the middle of my panic attack, he picked me up from my hiding spot, and his energy immediately calmed me. At least until I opened my eyes. The distorted white skull printed on his mask obscured his face completely. Those dark, shadowed eyes staring into my soul sent icy tendrils of fear skittering across my skin. I don’t particularly want to admit it, but as much as it scared me, it turned me on too. I’m just choosing to ignore the fact that I have a traitorous pussy who doesn't know what’s good for her—or me, for that matter. She has a mind of her own, and she appreciates a sexy masked man growling at her more than I care to acknowledge—since I’m literally running from him right now.

I shove little traitors' demands deep down and pick up the pace. Twigs and leaves crunch beneath my boots as I race through the woods. I didn’t see anyone coming out of the gas station when I disappeared into the woods beside it, so I just have to hope he picked any other direction than this one to look for me.

I’m so busy trying to calm my racing heart and ragged breaths that I barely have time to register the heavy footfalls as they quickly gain on me. He doesn’t shout for me, but I know it’s him—I can feel him. There’s something about him I can’t put my finger on. I have to fight every cell in my body not to stop in my tracks and wait for him.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

This stranger probably wants to cut me into tiny pieces and shove them in a garbage disposal. Grimacing at my own sadistic mind and how it immediately takes me down the darkest path, I push myself faster, ignoring my fuzzy mind, aching body, and conflicting response to this man.

After what feels like forever, but in reality is only a few minutes, a house comes into view. If I can get close, I can scream my fucking head off and pray to whoever will listen that someone is home and will help me. There are lights on inside, giving me hope for a good samaritan with a really big gun and a phone.

“Help! Somebody help me!” I scream as my feet thud against the wooden porch steps. “Please! Open the door! Help me!” My fists beat against the door like my life depends on it—because it fucking does. I grab the doorknob on a prayer, twisting it, and it opens. But before I can step inside, the air becomes almost suffocating as I feel him behind me.

The scream of terror dies in my throat as his hand closes over my mouth tightly, pulling me back away from the door as it swings open slowly. My feet leave the ground as his free arm wraps around my waist, and he picks me up from behind. I kick at the porch rails as he spins us around, trying to free myself from his hold. But he doesn’t even stumble as he takes the steps, slow and steady.

“Keep acting like a brat, and I’ll be happy to give you another nap,” he growls in my ear, sending goosebumps scattering across my skin that have nothing to do with the chill in the air. His voice is deep—like gravel and honey, it slithers over my body and settles between my thighs. I have to mentally fist fight myself not to moan into his fucking hand.

Get a grip, Rue Monroe! This is not the time, place, or the fucking guy!

His body molds to mine, his hard chest pressing into my back. He’s so tall, my feet dangle just below his knees. With his breath fanning across my neck, I forget to fight. I forget to breathe. His warmth wraps around me like a cloak. The fear coursing through my veins drains from my body, and I feel… safe.

My body relaxes against him as he tightens his hold on me, his body going rigid before coming to a halt at the bottom of the steps. Then I hear it. A growl? Or a moan?

“Shhhhhh,” he rasps, slowly turning us around.

A man slowly emerges from the shadows, his head cocked to the side at an unnatural angle. His feet drag on the wooden porch as he moves more into the light coming from the security pole across the yard. Something shifts in the air when I see his face. Dried blood streaks down his face, coming from his eyes—just like Josh.

A cold, black aura slithers across my skin, and like my first night in my foster home, the smell of death hits me square in the face. But this time, the smell is real. My body responds by going stone still, my spine straight as a board. The masked man holding me against him slowly steps us into the shadows beside the porch.

“I’m going to put you down. Don’t run,” he whispers in my ear, and I don’t know why, but my head nods on its own, wanting—no, needing to obey the very man I’m trying to run from.

He bends to lower me down until my boots hit the ground. His hand slides away from my mouth, drifting down to my throat. He pauses there for a moment, his masked face still pressed against the side of my head, his mouth at my ear as he growls again. “Stay here.”

I miss the warmth of his body against mine as soon as he releases me. I’m stunned for a second, forcing myself to stay still so I don’t turn around and climb him like a tree. I convince myself it’s just because he feels like the lesser of evils here. I don’t feel icy, cold death from the masked man, unlike the psycho-looking man on the porch who stinks of death and decay.

Choosing to trust my gut, I turn around, craning my neck back to peer up into the shadowy depths where I feel his eyes on me. “Okay.”

He stares back at me for a moment, his head tilting slightly as if he’s trying to determine if I’ll actually stay put. Without warning, he whips me around, shoving my back into the vinyl siding on the house, hiding me deeper in the shadows.

He snatches the blade from my thigh strap, and my heart rate doubles, pounding in my chest like a hummingbird. He slides the sharp tip up my body, slowly dragging it over my thigh, my hip, then my stomach. When it reaches my chest, he applies more pressure. My breath catches as tiny beads of blood form a thin line in the valley of my cleavage.

He’s so close, invading my senses and making me dizzy. The temporary distraction doesn’t last before the creepy ass man rounds the corner of the house, his ragged breathing sounding like wet sandpaper as he drags his foot behind him.

Something’s really fucking wrong here. I shake my head slightly, trying to clear the haze of lust the masked stranger brought on. It must be the drugs still in my system. That’s why I’m responding to him like this. He presses my blade flat against my lips and whispers.

“Don’t make a sound.”

He spins towards the man, blocking him from my view. I can hear him shuffling closer; his breathing sounds even more concerning, rattling and strangled. I feel the blood leech from my face when his ragged breathing turns into a demented screech.

I can’t stop the scream that flies out of me as the masked man lunges towards him. and I’m frozen, wanting to squeeze my eyes closed but unable to. Their bodies thud together and I don’t know what I’m hoping for… them to kill each other—maybe?

Liar.

Somewhere deep, deep down, I feel a connection to this man, and I know I don’t want him to get hurt. It doesn’t make sense, and I can’t explain it.

A therapist should really do a deep dive into my head.

Yeah. That’s what I’ll do when I make it back to campus. I’m sure Mal and Noah will get a kick out of that. I prefer to fuck my feelings out than lay on some bitch’s comfy couch with an emotional support blankey and tell her all the fucked up things about myself.

Run, bitch.

My self-preservation finally kicks in, knocking some sense into my body. He’s distracted with the creep. I need to get the fuck back to school and check on my friends. I can’t play hide and seek with a deranged kidnapper, no matter what connection I may or may not feel to him. Snapping my eyes open, my kidnapper is straddling the guy on the ground. I barely register that he’s stabbing him repeatedly before my feet get the fucking memo, and I bolt back in the direction of the gas station. The woods might provide cover, but this little excursion has proved to be a bust. I’ll take my chances with whoever might be inside the store.