Page 106 of Haunting the Hunter
“Behind you!” Ben shouts—right before he collapses to his knees, his hands clutching his side, a wet sucking sound rattling his chest.
Genevieve lets out a muffled scream against my palm and I whip around—Oh shiiit.
CRACK.
A hard blow to the side of my skull sends me crashing back against the tree, Genevieve tumbling to the ground next to me. My vision spins, stars bursting across the darkness. My weapon is gone—thrown somewhere behind the brush. I blink—dizzy. I’m bleeding. Motherfucker.
And then I see him.
Fucking Frank.
Towering and monstrous—his mouth curled into something uglier than a smile. He grabs Genevieve by the throat and yanks her off the ground like she weighs nothing. She kicks wildly, clawing at his hands as she gasps for air, face turning a blotchy red.
Frank sneers at her, voice dripping with venom.
“You’re not going anywhere, little bitch.”
Still on the ground, the world still spinning, I throw my leg out—my boot connecting with Frank’s knee.
Crack.
He stumbles, balance broken, and his grip loosens. Genevieve crashes to the ground with a sickening thud, her hands flying to her throat as she struggles for air.
I scramble—my chest burning, ground still shifting—eyes on the gun.
Almost. Fucking. There.
Frank’s hand seizes my ankle as my fingers brush the grip and he yanks me back hard across the dirt. Before I can stop it, he throws his full weight on top of me, straddling my legs, massive hands clamping down around my throat.
Pressure—white-hot and crushing. I fight, squirm, and claw at him, but his grip only tightens, that sick smile back on his ugly face.
I can feel it. The cartilage folding. The air being locked out.
Everything dims as my vision tunnels, the edges blackening.
Somewhere in the chaos, I glimpse Genevieve crawling toward Ben, screaming, begging, but her voice is distant… like I’m underwater.
And then it hits me. I’m dying…
I think ofyou.
My little ghost.
I’m sorry… I—I lov—
BANG.
The weight on top of me goes limp, Frank’s body slumping forward as his grip slips from my neck.
I inhale a jagged, desperate breath. My lungs seize and I cough violently, tears springing to my eyes from the force of it.
As my vision slowly clears, I look up.
Ben stands over me, bleeding and shaking, the barrel of the gun still pointed at Frank’s skull. His hand is pressed to his side, blood spilling between his fingers.
He saved me.
I stay on the ground a beat longer, forcing my lungs to work, my throat raw and spasming. Then I push Frank’s body off me, his dead weight thudding beside my leg. Motherfucker weighs a ton.
