Page 2 of Mated to the Mountain Bear
The window sticks like it always does, and I have to shove with both hands to get it to move. It screams against the frame, shattering the silence, as I push it wide enough for me to fit through.
Everything happens at once.
Fresh air and rain hit me straight in the face as I poke my head outside. Footsteps, not careful anymore, hurry toward my room at speed. The doorknob rattles violently as I squeeze through the window opening.
I crawl out, knowing the lock might slow them down, but it won’t stop them. Not if they’re as determined as I suspect they are.
Icy rain immediately soaks through my thin top as I stand. The fire escape is slick under my bare feet, and I have to grab the railing to keep from slipping.
There’s no time for the ladder. So I swing over the rail and drop to the platform below. The wet metal is treacherous, and my feet slide out from under me. I crash hard onto my knees, and the impact rattles up through my bones. I bite my tongue hard enough to taste blood.
Above me, a shadow fills my bedroom window, big and broad. Not paranoia. Not my imagination. I can feel his eyes on me, and my skin prickles. Dark against dark, but definitely there.
Definitely real.
“Don’t run from me.” The voice isn’t angry, but I’m not stupid enough to listen.
Running is exactly what I do.
Second floor. My palms are already raw from clinging onto the rusted metal railings. Rain streams into my eyes, making iteven harder to see in the near pitch-black alley. The last platform is still too high to drop safely to the ground below, but I don’t have any other option. I’m not getting caught.
Not tonight.
The old oak tree that grows too close to the building is my only choice. The landlord keeps threatening to cut it down because it’s a security risk, but tonight, it could be my saviour. Its thick branches reach toward the fire escape like gnarled fingers. The leaves droop, heavy with rain, and I swallow hard as I look down at the drop below.
I hate heights.
Metal clangs above me. He’s coming for me. He’s not giving up, either.
I can’t let myself think about the distance to the concrete below. I have to jump.
The branch catches me in the stomach, a knot digging hard into my ribs, driving all the air from my lungs. I can’t breathe, can’t scream. I can only hold on as rough bark tears into my palms. The branch bends with a sick cracking sound as loud as thunder. My weight is too much for it. It breaks, and I’m falling. Fast.
I hit the alley hard, rolling through garbage bags that split open on impact. Something wet and rancid soaks through my sleep shorts, and I grimace as I pluck a soggy tissue from my arm.
Everything hurts, but adrenaline gets me moving again. My bare feet splash through puddles as I race down the street, praying there’s someone around at this time of night to help me.
Rosie’s neon pink sign glows at the end of the block like a beacon, one of those diners that’s always full of cops and shift workers, and is always open. My legs pump harder, cut feet screaming with each step, on the wet pavement. Soaked hairplasters my hair to my face, and my lungs burn, but I don’t dare stop.
I can feel him hot on my heels, hunting me. It’s like he’s breathing down my neck, chasing me in the shadows.
Expecting him to reach out and grab me any second, I crash through the door, hitting it hard enough to make the bell clang violently.
“Help me. He’s right behind me.”
Slamming the door shut, I press my hands against it, desperately looking for a bolt or lock. When I lift my palm, there's a bloody print on the white wood. I step back once, twice, then scan the windows for anyone following me.
“Jesus, honey.” The server behind the counter spills her coffee, hissing as she shakes the drips off her hand and watches the dark liquid spread across the gleaming white surface.
Two uniforms in the corner booth look up from their meals. The younger one is already on his feet and walking toward me before I can catch my breath enough to get more words out.
“Someone broke into my apartment.” The words tumble out between gasps for air. Water streams from my hair and clothes, pooling at my feet. “He chased me down the fire escape.”
Whoever he is, he's still out there.
The cop ducks his head and looks out through the glass, but being inside with the lights on makes it impossible to see through the massive windows. I feel like a goldfish in a bowl. I can’t see him, but he can see me.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I spin, my skin crawling at the idea that he’s watching me right now. The urge to crawl under a table to hide is strong.
