Page 28 of Fury
I don't look back, focusing only on putting distance between us. The ground slopes upward, making my legs burn with effort. I dial Greyson again, praying he'll answer.
This time, he picks up on the first ring. "Livie? What's wrong?"
"He's here," I gasp, still running. "Richard Keller. He shot the prospects. He's in the woods behind your house, chasing me."
Greyson's curse is vicious. "Where exactly are you?"
"I don't know," I admit, panic rising. "Running uphill, away from the house. There's a stream or something ahead, I can hear water."
"I know where that is. Keep going, cross the stream, then head left along the bank. There's an old hunting cabin about half a mile up. Get inside, barricade the door. We're on our way."
"Hurry," I plead, hearing branches breaking behind me.
"Stay on the line," Greyson orders. "Don't hang up, no matter what."
I can hear him shouting orders to others, the roar of motorcycles starting.
The stream comes into view, water rushing over rocks. I splash across, the cold water soaking my jeans to the knees.
"I crossed it," I tell Greyson, turning left as instructed. "Following the bank now."
"Good girl." The sound of his engine revving in the background can be heard. "We're ten minutes out. Less if we can help it."
Ten minutes feels like an eternity with a madman on my trail. I push myself harder, ignoring the burning in my lungs and the scratches from branches whipping past my face.
"Olivia!" Richard's voice calls from somewhere behind me. "You're only making this harder on yourself!"
"He's still following," I whisper into the phone.
"Keep moving," Greyson urges. "Don't stop, don't look back."
The hunting cabin appears through the trees, a small, weathered structure that's seen better days. I stumble toward it, my legs threatening to give out as I reach the door. It's not locked, thank God, and I burst inside, slamming it behind me.
The interior is sparse: a wooden table, two chairs, a small fireplace with ashes long cold. No electricity, no phone. Just dust and cobwebs and the faint smell of mildew.
"I'm in," I gasp to Greyson, leaning against the door. "There's no lock."
"Look for something to barricade it," he instructs, his voice tight with fear and fury. "Anything heavy."
I drag the table across the floor, wedging it against the door. It won't hold for long, but it's something.
"How far out are you?" I ask, scanning the cabin for weapons, anything I can use to defend myself.
"Seven minutes. Baby, listen to me. If he gets in before we arrive, you don't hesitate. You shoot to kill. Understand?"
"Yes," I whisper, though my hand trembles around the gun.
A shadow passes by the single dirty window. I freeze, pressing myself against the wall beside it, out of sight.
"Olivia," Richard calls, his voice deceptively gentle. "I know you're in there. Let's talk about this like adults."
I say nothing, focusing on controlling my breathing. The doorknob rattles, then the entire door shudders as he throws his weight against it. The table slides an inch.
"You're making me angry now," he warns, his tone hardening. "You don't want to see me angry, Olivia. Ask my wife what happens when I get angry."
Another slam against the door. The table slides farther.
"Greyson," I whisper into the phone, "hurry."
