22: UNTIL THEY LEAVE
637 Words
PHEEONA.
I sat frozen in the back of that car, listening to my captors argue among themselves, trying desperately to piece together what exactly was happening to me.
"They've put barricades up," one of them muttered, glancing at something on his phone, frustration creasing his face. "We can't go through smoothly anymore."
"We'll leg it," another said. "Meet up with our base before dawn. Things are too tense right now to risk the main roads."
I sat there, completely confused.
Was I being killed, or wasn't I? Because right now it sounded like they wanted to get me out of Ashenbane entirely, and if that was the actual goal, wouldn't now be the absolute best time to do it?
If my mates already knew I'd been taken—and surely they did by now—wouldn't security only tighten with every hour that passed? Wouldn't every minute spent arguing in the back of this car be a minute wasted, a minute that worked entirely against whatever plan they thought they had?
None of it made sense.
The car finally rolled to a stop, and I was pulled out roughly, the cool night air hitting my skin the second the door opened. We crossed into a treeline, walking deeper and deeper into a forest I didn't recognize, branches snapping underfoot, the dark pressing in from every direction.
Everyone around me looked disoriented. Uncomfortable.
A sinking feeling started settling into my stomach.
They hadn't thought this through.
Any of it.
And there was nothing worse, nothing more dangerous, than having your entire life left in the hands of immature, novice criminals who had absolutely no idea who they were actually dealing with. Men who clearly hadn't considered what would happen the moment Crowen, Nashyn, and Vizellan realized exactly what had been taken from them.
The man holding my arm stumbled over an exposed root, his grip slipping just enough.
I broke free and ran.
I didn't think. I didn't plan. My body just moved, legs pumping hard beneath me, my dress catching and tearing against branches I couldn't see in time to avoid. Behind me, shouting erupted, voices calling out, footsteps crashing through the underbrush in pursuit.
I braced myself for gunfire.
It never came.
That alone gave me a strange, desperate kind of confidence, enough to push my legs faster, enough to keep me moving even as my lungs burned and my heart slammed against my ribs hard enough to hurt.
It was dark. Too dark. I couldn't see more than a few feet ahead of me, branches and roots and uneven ground all blending together into one disorienting blur. I was terrified, genuinely, bone-deep terrified, the kind of fear that made every sound behind me feel like it was right on top of me.
"Stop!" one of them shouted. "Stop running, we'll shoot!"
I didn't stop.
I couldn't stop. Stopping meant whatever came next, and I refused to find out what that was if I had even a single ounce of strength left to keep moving.
I spared one glance over my shoulder.
It cost me everything.
My foot caught on something I never saw coming, and the ground rushed up to meet me far faster than I could brace for it. My head cracked against stone, pain exploding white-hot behind my eyes, and I felt something warm and wet immediately start seeping against my temple.
Blood.
I tried to push myself up. My arms wouldn't cooperate.
The voices around me grew distant, muffled, like I was hearing them from underwater. The dark forest blurred at the edges, shapes melting into each other, and somewhere in the chaos I registered footsteps finally closing in.
I tried to move.
I couldn't.
Everything faded to black before I even had the chance to be afraid of what came next.
- Writer
