Page 30 of Risky Passion

The swamp exploded as a monstrous crocodile launched upward in a surge of water. Massive jaws snapped around the lead man's leg. His thong flew off as the violent crunch of snapping bone filled the air, brutal and sickening. He crashed face-first into the mud, shrieking wildly and clawing at the earth as the beast dragged him backward. Blood pumped from his mangled leg, painting the swampy ground beneath him ghastly red.

The other men shouted in voices raw with panic as they surged forward, firing bursts of gunfire at the crocodile. The bullets were useless, thudding against the crocodile’s hide with hollow futility. Sixty million years of evolution had turned that beast into a living tank.

The monstrous reptile thrashed harder, its massive tail whipping the muddy water into a frenzied spray.

The fucking tarantula on my shoulder lifted one of its legs as if daring me to move. My lungs felt heavy, like they were filled with mud, and as I fought blind panic, every muscle locked in raw terror.

If that spider gets any closer, I’ll scream. God help me, I’ll fucking scream.

As the man was wrenched sideways with terrifying force, mud and water erupted in violent sprays, churning up the swampy water. The crocodile rolled its massive body, twisting into the infamous death spiral with the man still helplessly locked in its jaws, showcasing a savage display of brutal, primal dominance. His screams broke into wet, gurgling cries, his lungs filling with liquid as the beast’s relentless motion shredded flesh and pulverized bone like it was nothing more than Styrofoam.

One of the other men lunged forward, and with desperation blazing in his eyes, he grabbed the victim’s arm with both hands. Planting his heels into the mud, he released a guttural, demonic roar as he strained with everything he had to save his mate. A tug of war against fifteen feet of prehistoric muscle wasn’t just madness, it was a death sentence. That beast wasn’t letting go.

Crocodiles never let go.

The victim’s body jerked violently as the crocodile dragged him into the water. Gunfire rattled through the swamp, frantic and useless as the others kept firing. A blood-curdling scream tore through the chao and it was raw it seemed to slice straight into my bones.

I shuddered as my stomach twisted in a sickening knot of revulsion and dread.

The spider darted up my neck, its hairy legs tickling my skin.

“Fuck!” A strangled cry burst from my lips as panic took hold. Screaming, I ripped the spider off my neck and hurled it away. I was still shrieking as it hit the mud and scurried into the shadows.

One of the men whirled toward me.

His eyes widened, wild with realization.

"Ang piloto. Pilot!" he shouted. His words sliced through the chaos like a blade. "Nandyan siya."

Terror gripped me, raw and unrelenting as I pushed off the tree and bolted. My legs felt like lead, and as every muscle burned, adrenaline kept me moving. My shoe thudded against the mud with every step, while my bare foot slapped wetly and every jagged root or stone I couldn’t avoid jabbed my instep. The man’s screams echoed behind me like a haunting nightmare and added to the shrill cries of birds darting from the trees.

The undergrowth was relentless, branches snatched at my arms and face like skeletal hands trying to grab me. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Behind me, bullets cracked through the dense foliage, ringing in my ears, and I darted from side to side like a drunken lunatic.

I glanced over my shoulder, and my blood ran cold. Two men were chasing me. Fury and determination twisted their faces. They crashed through the bushes like predators on the hunt.

My bare foot caught on a hidden root. I stumbled, barely managing to catch myself before I hit the ground. My hands scraped against the rough bark of a tree as I pushed off, propelling myself forward with everything I had left.

The men shouted words I couldn’t understand, and panic surged through me like a tidal wave. A bullet slammed into a tree just inches away, and I screamed as splintering bark stung my cheek. I darted away, my chest heaving, and every breath was a jagged knife slicing through my ribs. My heart hammered so hard I thought it might burst.

I couldn’t hear the crocodile victim’s screams anymore. Maybe he was dead. Or maybe I was too far away. Hopefully both. Pain throbbed in my dislocated finger, and each time it brushed against something, fresh waves of nausea rolled through me.

The swamp stretched on forever, a suffocating maze of gnarled trees and black water that seemed intent on swallowing me whole. My legs burned, every muscle screaming for mercy, but I clenched my jaw and pushed harder. I couldn't stop. Stopping meant death. And I wasn't ready to die, not here, not like this.

The air was a choking, humid blanket, thick with the stench of rot and brackish water. Sweat poured down my forehead and temples, andunder my arms and boobs, mixing with the grime smeared across my skin. Every step was a war as the mud sucked greedily at my remaining shoe, threatening to rip it off, while slippery roots and tangled vines were determined to trip me. Sheer survival instinct kept me going.

Behind me, the gunfire was relentless, sharp cracks tearing through the air.

A shout sounded right behind me.

Fuck. They’re closing in.

My heart jackhammered against my ribs, and a surge of panic flooded me.

Keep going. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.

Mud clung to my shoe and bare foot, dragging at me, slowing me down. My breaths came in desperate gasps, shallow and ragged, and fear clawed at my chest like an eel was inside me.

A thought crept into my mind, dark and insidious:They’re going to catch me.

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