Page 109 of Spinner's Luck

I bolted out the back door, my feet slamming against the ground as I raced into the open field behind the station. The tall grass brushed my legs, slowing me down, but I didn’t stop.

The engines grew louder.

I pushed harder, lungs burning as the tree line loomed ahead. If I could make it into the woods, I might have a chance. I had to make it.

But the roar of bikes was deafening now, splitting the night like a death knell.

“Come on,” I whispered, desperate.

I hit the trees, the darkness swallowing me whole.

Branches tore at my arms, my legs, but I barely felt them. The bikes were muffled now, the thick canopy distorting the sound, but they were out there. Hunting me.

Then—I fell.

My foot caught on something—a root, a rock, I didn’t know, and I went down hard, my hands scraping against the rough ground. Pain flared through my palms, but I bit down on a cry, crawling behind a fallen log.

Silence.

Worse than the noise.

I pressed my back against the wood, sucking in short, shallow breaths. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.

Then, I heard them.

Voices.

“She couldn’t have gone far,” one of them said, his voice rough, irritated.

“Fan out,” another barked. “Check the woods. She’s here somewhere.”

My stomach twisted, and I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag.

I’d gotten away before. I could do it again.

But as the sound of footsteps crept closer, doubt slithered in.

Then came the worst sound yet—slow, deliberate footsteps.

Like something out of a horror movie.

I pressed myself tighter against the log, my breath barely there, my heartbeat a frantic hammer. I hadn’t made a sound. I’d been careful.

But they’d found me anyway.

And then—

“Come out, love.”

Fang’s voice curled through the trees, a low, mocking whisper.

“The only way you’re getting’ away from me is in a body bag. And even then, I might dig you back up.”

A ghostly chill dragged its claws down my back.

I clutched my bag tighter, fingers trembling. I had to move. Staying here was a death sentence.

I eased up, shifting to my hands and knees, ready to bolt deeper into the brush.

---