36
Brock
Jessie’s shriek pulled me to my feet, and I clenched my teeth against the pain, stumbling toward the cabin’s open door, knife in a death grip in my freezing hand.
Need to protect her. Save her.
One agonizing step. Another. Steadily forward, but not nearly f*****g fast enough.
Goddamnit! I’m coming… Please don’t f*****g hurt her!
Her hands appeared in the doorway, clawing for the daylight—she ripped from my sight.
“Lying b***h!” a man hollered—too young a voice to be Shiv.
Fucking Cort. He muttered some more, too low for me to make out.
“Jessie,” I whispered, knowing I needed to keep silent. Use stealth since physically, both Shiv and Cort would be able to take me. Five steps.
“Don’t even care you pissed yourself and stink like an outhouse,” Cort said, his voice reaching
