Page 62 of The Hunted

My eyes are heavy.My lids refuse to open, no matter how hard I fight. Something is splashing my face. Something cold. Something wet, maybe? My wrist, it hurts, no it burns. Tight, restrained.

Pain.

I manage to crack open an eye. It takes every ounce of energy I can muster to turn my head toward the source of that pain. The edges of my vision blur as I fight to focus my gaze. A man, holding my arm, tying rope around my wrist.

What?

My mind can’t make sense of the scene before me. I fight to keep my eyes open as cold seeps into my skin, nipping my flesh like a thousand pin pricks. I look up, up, up, up above me, and tears fill my eyes. No not tears, water.

Rain?

Am I outside?

My eyes try to focus through the haze as I look down the length of my body. Dampness surrounds me. Puddles of water glisten.

I’m lying on the ground on my back, in the rain. I try to move my other arm, to roll over, but I can’t move it. I roll my head to the side to see a large pond. The rope tied to my wrist extends across to the other side of the pond. I squint, trying to focus as the cold rain pelts my face. There’s a figure there, across the pond.

What’s he doing?

He’s holding a post, I think. I squint harder, trying to understand the sight before me.

What the hell is going on?

“Oh, look. My son’s whore is awake.”

Oh, Christ, no. Not him.

Vaughn Bane hovers above me, holding an umbrella. My head throbs. My brain feels fuzzy. I’m sluggish. I watch the water drip from the edges of the umbrella, lost inside my foggy mind. This makes no sense. I was at the door. Lazz got me to the door. I was at the door!

I try to jerk my hand from the guy tying the rope around me, but I don’t have enough energy to manage much of a fight.

“I gave you a little cocktail. Makes it easier to get you set up.”

The rope is now securely tied to my wrist. The man stands, wrapping and tying it off to a post before handing it off to another man dressed in camo, who walks away with the long length in his hand.

The tension stretches my arm out, and I begin to get pulled to my left, toward the pond. A weakened scream tumbles from my lips. The other man is pulling me into the pond.

This is what happened to Knox’s mother.

Dear God! He plans to drown me!

I continue to be pulled closer to the pond. Despite my struggles, I can’t seem to move my legs. I lift my head to see rope wrapped around my ankles, and it’s tethered to an anchor that’s dragging to the side of me. It begins to stick in the mud as the rain pelts down onto the earth, and bile rises into my throat. I try to scream frantically, but the drugs in my system are making me too lethargic to achieve more than a low moan. I raise my head again as mud rolls over me and my heart stops.

Knox!

My heart hammers at my chest.

No! No! No!

He’s tied to a tree across from the pond. My God. Is he alive? I start to shout his name, and my efforts land me a sharp kick to my ribs. I suck in air desperately as the pain radiates through my side.

“Enough. Shut the fuck up. You couldn’t listen, could you? I gave you one job, Prey, run, and you couldn’t listen. You did this to yourself, girl. Fucking Lazzaro, screwing up my plans. I had to drop down one of those old tunnel grates to get you before you slipped away from me.” I watch as Vaughn stalks off toward his son.

I still try to call for Knox. He can’t be dead. He can’t. If he is, I don’t care what they do to me. I don’t have much choice in the matter at this point, anyway.

I’m going to die.

Tears trail down my cheeks.

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