Page 95 of Zain

Adrenaline screeched throughDana’s system. He was getting closer. If she didn’t make a run for it, he’d find her. Fire shot from her pinky as her bound hands pressed against the rough tree bark. Forcing the pain away with an uneven breath, she inched her face toward the edge of the tree and locked her gaze on Drake.

He moved like Lurch, every step painfully slow and his hand flat against the wound beneath his arm. His fingers clung to the gun hanging at his side. He wasn’t far, maybe forty feet. If she could make it to the ravine before he noticed her, she’d be out of sight before he could get off a shot.

The last thing she wanted to do was give up the security of the tree at her back, but there was no helping it. It was run or be found.

She swallowed, but no saliva went down. Only the sandy texture of fear clung to the insides of her throat. Locking her focus on the ravine, she rose to shaking feet, bent forward to keep her head low,and ran.

The ravine came into view, and she squeezed through bushes. Twigs snapped beneath her feet, screaming with traitorous voices.

Crack,crack!

The deafening blast of gunfire screeched past her ears. Heat singed her arm like a hot poker scraping against her flesh. She cried out and fell on her ass. She slid down the ravine and landed on her back at the bottom.

The sky spun, and her senses fizzled in and out of clarity. Her skin throbbed, and the nerves in her arm spit fire.

Get up, get up!

The insistent voice rushed forth from her subconscious, driving her to a sitting position. She gasped and sputtered as pain licked her flesh from the inside out. Blood trickled down her arm, but she didn’t try to inspect the wound for fear she’d pass out.

She teetered down the ravine. She couldn’t climb the other side of the slope. With her arms behind her it’d be an impossible feat. All she could do was find cover and pray someone found her.

A whistle sounded overhead.

Dana froze. Ice spread from the base of her spine to her neck. She lifted her gaze to the top of the ravine. Two men, guys she’d never seen before, stood above her.

Relief made her choke out a sob. “Help! Please.There’s a shooter!”

One of the men smiled and said, “Sure, honey. We’ll give ya a hand. Ain’t nothin’ to worry ’bout now.” He skidded down the hill.

The first guy snickered and followed his friend.

Trepidation seized Dana. Something was wrong.

They weren’t concerned about a possible shooter. Didn’t seem surprised about finding her either. All the moisture left her mouth, and she retreated a step, then two.

Her gaze fell to the men’s hands. They had guns.

Dana turned and ran, panic nipping at her heels. Their laughter boomed through the forest. Her feet squelched in the damp earth, every footstep sucking her down as she sprinted. The acrid taste of fear eroded her tongue.

The men hooted and called as she fled. Bastards knew she had nowhere to go, knew she couldn’t climb, knew they’d outrun her. Still, she didn’t stop. She’d fight until a bullet entered her head.

Tears ran down her cheeks, mixing with debris and strands of hair. Their footsteps grew louder and louder behind her.

Her toe caught a rock and she flew forward, her stomach landing hard on the ground. The wind coughed from her lungs, and pain exploded across her chest and back. The men cackled, their laughter rolling off the hill.

Combat boots appeared in her vision, and one of the men squatted and moved her hair from her face. If his fingers had been closer, she’d have bitten them off.

She stared into his hard, cold face. He smirked, the smile barely reaching his chalky brown eyes. “Too bad they wanna get rid of such a pretty thing.”

“Fuck you,” she spat.

His friend guffawed.

The guy’s smile fell. “Shut up, Smith.” He got to his feet and caught her around the biceps, hauling her upright. The world tilted, and Dana’s footing faltered. Too many falls and blows to the head had her equilibrium slipping.

“Come on. We’re goin’ for a little walk.” He turned her toward the incline of the ravine, and her legs turned to mush.

She sank to the ground. Even if she had more stamina, she wouldn’t willingly walk to her execution. She’d make every minute of her murder grueling for them—and spread as much of her DNA as possible.

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