Page 133 of Forged in Rain

Brushing the hair off her face, I kiss her gently, the bitter tang of her life stinging my lips. And standing, I vow, if I never see her alive again, I’ll remember her in death because I will not rest until John is in hell.

But now, I need to find my brother and get us the fuck out of this place. Scanning the trees, I step away from my mom. It’s complete darkness. Anything could be out there—John, wild animals.

But if Joey is out there, what choice do I have?

“Joey?” I whisper.

An owl hoots, and I shiver at the husky call. A message, perhaps?

Squaring my shoulders, I call out to my brother again, the echo muffled by the thick trees. For my efforts, I get nothing, and even the natural sounds of the forest creatures die down.

Stopping at the tree line, I glance back at Mom lying on the ground. Behind her, the guys emerge, and I exhale noisily. Thank fuck, because I don’t know how far Joey might be, and I have no light to see by.

“Mom?”

A faint cry echoes in my ears and spinning away, I run into the trees, screaming, “Joey!”

The woods are so dense I have to weave between the trunks, and I’m assaulted by limbs with every step for my efforts.

“Fuck,” I mutter when a thick branch smacks my cheek, rubbing the sting as I jump over a fallen log.

“Rain!” Cyn screams from behind me.

“Joey?” I yell, slowing to a stop and bending over. I’m out of breath, and I can’t see a fucking thing, but I won’t stop until I find my brother.

“Rain!” Cyn bellows.

“Here,” I call, turning to see the bobbing flashlight behind me.

“Rainy?”

“Joey?” Spinning toward his voice, achingly close, I jog through the foliage. One moment I’m upright, and the next, I’m falling.

“Fuck,” I mutter when I meet the ground with a thud. My knee blooms with pain and crouching over, I grab my leg with a whimper. What the hell?

Raising my head, I search for the light of the moon, but it’s gone and the air around me feels thicker. My neck tingles in the age-old message to take heed and cautiously, I stand, my bones cracking painfully.

A dull throb starts up in my forehead, and with a whimper, I stretch out my arm. Empty air greets me, and I take two steps forward before my fingers meet earth, the rich soil breaking away under the tips.

A wall? Am I in a hole?

Running my fingers over the surface, I confirm it’s a hole when I find no breaks in the wall.

“Great,” I mumble, tipping my head toward the sky. My mouth is open to scream for Cyn when I rebound off something soft, more pliable.

I freeze, staring into the pitch black before reaching out and pressing my fingertips against the lump. Whatever it is, it’s icy cold, colder than the dirt walls surrounding me.

My heart is pumping so wildly in my chest, I pause to suck in a breath before trailing my fingers up the object. But nothing prepares me for the hard, round lump under my fingers, and stumbling back, I gasp because I think I just touched a button on a fucking shirt.

Fuck.

Sucking in a breath, I reach out with a shaky hand and press against the lump again.

“One. Two,” I count as I pass each button, choking on a sob.

“No,” I moan when I meet what must be skin, the waxy, cold sensation rubbery under my fingers.

I don’t know why I keep going. Maybe temporary insanity, but I need to know, and when I follow the dip and feel the stubble beneath my touch, I step back.

---