Page 57 of Closer Than You Think
The dark, looming pines cast long shadows across the forest floor, their branches clawing at the sky. The only sounds are the gentle sigh of the wind through the needled boughs overhead and the crunch of pine needles beneath our boots.
Somewhere in the darkness, Hallie is out there, hurt and bleeding. Each second that ticks by feels like an eternity, every fiber of my being screaming to find her.
But then we hear it. A branch snapping. A deep roar.
A blood-curdling scream.
Twenty-Seven
Hallie
The woods are a blur of foggy green as I stumble over roots and rocks, trying to match Blake's relentless pace. Each step sends a jolt of pain through my broken wrist, throbbing in time with my racing heartbeat. He had to cut the bindings on my ankles but left the ones on my hands, leaving me unbalanced.
My breath comes out in ragged gasps, fogging up the chilly air that bites at my exposed skin.
“Keep moving, Hallie,” Blake commands without looking back, his voice devoid of the warmth I once knew. He doesn't slow down, doesn't offer a hand. I'm just cargo, something to be delivered to this supposed safe-house.
The rope is rough, cutting into my skin. It's tight, but not tight enough to kill hope. In the midst of the pain, something hardens inside me—determination. I refuse to be helpless, to be a victim.
“Blake,” I pant, trying to sound weaker than I feel. “Please, it hurts.”
He spares me a glance over his shoulder, those piercing blue eyes cold and calculating. “Pain is temporary. You'll survive. For now.”
His words are meant to scare me, but they ignite a fire within. As we navigate through the shadowed forest, every crunch of leaves underfoot becomes a countdown. I need an opportunity, a moment of distraction, anything.
“Remember, Hallie,” he continues, mistaking my silence for surrender, “Silas can’t help you now. Just a little farther.”
Silas. The thought of him, of his gentle yet possessive touch, gives me strength. I scan our surroundings, searching for any advantage. A rock, a loose branch, a sudden change in terrain—anything could become my ally in escape.
Blake remains oblivious to my internal rebellion, his focus on the path ahead unwavering. But I am a teacher, a nurturer of minds used to spotting the potential in everything. And right now, I'm learning a lesson in survival.
“Almost there,” Blake assures, and I nod, feigning compliance while my mind races.
Any second now, I tell myself. Any second, and I'll make my move.
My gaze latches onto a gray shape jutting from the underbrush—a branch. Not just any branch, a solid, broken limb with enough heft to swing hard. My heart drums against my ribs as I taste the possibility of freedom.
With a grit teeth, I shift my weight, feeling the bindings around my wrists give a little. They're tight, but not tight enough now that my wrist is fractured and limp. I work frantically, sliding the fingers that can reach under the rope to loosen it. It works, millimeter by millimeter, until it slips over my injured wrist, raw and throbbing, but free.
Adrenaline floods my system, sharpening my senses, fueling my resolve. I don't think—I act. My hand shoots out, snatching the branch from the forest floor with a decisiveness that would surprise even Silas.
“Sorry, Blake,” I breathe out as the weight of the branch settles in my grip. The time for playing the damsel has passed. Now, it's time to fight back.
Branch in hand, I pivot on the ball of my foot, the world narrowing to Blake's unsuspecting figure. The rough bark bites into my skin, a welcome sting amidst the fear and fury swirling within me. My muscles coil, then release, propelling the makeshift weapon through the air with a ferocity born of desperation.
“Ugh!” Blake grunts as wood meets skull. He staggers, a look of shock etching his handsome features, those piercing blue eyes wide with disbelief.
It's a blow that resonates deeper than bone; it's the shattering of illusion, the splintering of the facade he wore so well.
“Hallie, what the—” His voice is cut short as his hands fly to his head, trying to regain some semblance of control. He lunges for me, grabbing my already injured arm, yanking me down.
I scream from the pain.
He tries to hit me, but he’s dazed.
I hear footsteps and it takes me a moment to realize we’re no longer alone.
Silas stands over us, his presence an anchor in the chaos. His gaze sweeps over the scene—over Blake, the branch still clutched in my hand—and then locks onto mine. There's no shock in his green eyes, only the sharp glint of calculation as he takes in every detail.
