Page 25 of Killing Emma

And now I’m being hunted.

Tears stream down my face as I take off again, ignoring the aches and pains. I’d rather die of a heart attack than be taken down by a dog. I push myself as hard as I can, gasping for air as the end of the driveway comes into view—and a gate. A large, impossible to scale, wrought-iron gate.

The fencing beside it reminds me of my own at home, a tall stone wall. I barrel toward it, searching for anything I can use to get over it. However, the sound of brush crashing behind me causes me to freeze. I spin around to see a jet-black dog stalking toward me in the moonlight.

Holy shit.

I brace for the impact, but he stops, letting out loud choppy barks.

“Guard her,” a voice growls from somewhere in the woods.

The dog rushes me, backing me up against the wall, barking and growling without touching me. I turn around to face the wall, reaching my hands up.

Maybe, just maybe, I can climb it.

“I’ll call for attack if you try to climb that fucking wall, Little Red.”

A sob breaks through my chest as I turn back around and am met with that unnerving, masked face. I know I look weak, but I don’t care as the tears spill down my face. Fuck this guy. Fuck him for kidnapping me and not just killing me.

He motions with his hand and the dog returns to him. “Did you really think you could escape me? That I wouldn’t know you broke my window?”

I swallow hard as he approaches me, leaving his dog sitting quietly where he once was. “I-I-I…”

His body crowds mine, pressing my back against the stone. “You have more guts than I gave you credit for, but I live for nights like these.” He leans down, his bare hand brushing my hair out of my face so gently I shiver. “You’re a long way from home, Emma—and even if you could have escaped this wall, you’d never make it far. There’s nothing out here but me. Well,” he nods back to the dog, “and him.”

I open my mouth, but I don’t say anything to him. I just want it to be over. Squeezing my eyes shut, I think of the stupidest thing I could do right now, and I do it. I shove back at his chest, and surprisingly, it catches him off guard.

But he barely moves, and his dog growls.

I expect him to come back at me, to hit me—to do something. Instead, he stands there, peering down at me with that stupid fucking mask. Rage replaces my fear, and I go after him again, my heart pumping. I let out a frustrated scream and punch his chest with all my might, fresh tears streaming down my face. And then I hit him again and again, barreling my clench fists into him.

The dog begins to bark at me.

“Quiet,” he grunts, and the dog hushes. Consequently, so do I, my body trembling violently. The tears have stopped, and I drop my now-sore fists to my sides. I consider dropping to the ground, forcing the brute and his dog to carry me back to my prison, but somehow my knees don’t fail me.

He’s definitely going to chain me up now, though.

“Are you done?” His words come across dull and unenthused, making me feel even smaller than he did before. I stare at him, knowing I probably look bewildered and frazzled right now. “You can run again if you’d like. We can do this all night, Little Red. I’m always going to win.”

I nod, letting out a manic chuckle. I tip my head back and look up at the stars, peeking through the tops of the trees. “I almost made it,” I mutter up at them, as if they’re listening. “Almost. I’ll always be an almost.”

He’s silent to that, letting out another one of those pained sighs. I bet I annoy him with my emotional garb. A man who kills people has to be emotionless and disconnected from humanity. He’s probably soulless.

I wrap my arms around myself and take a step forward. My legs shake, and I realize the dehydration and minimal food really is catching up to me. My head spins violently, my heart rate increasing beyond the rate it was when I was sprinting.

Please don’t pass out, I plead internally with my condition. I hate POTS. I worked so hard for it to be minimized and now this has set me back. I’m on the verge of blacking out. I can’t always feel it, but this time… I can.

“Should I drag you by your hair?” he chuckles as I stumble over my own feet. “Or are you going to come without a fight? I’ll take either.”

I glare at him, shivering so badly now my teeth chatter. I hesitate, struggling to catch my breath. “I need water and to sit down.”

He doesn’t say anything, but makes a gesture to the dog, who rushes behind me, herding me back toward the house. The dog nudges me, as if to tell me to pick up my pace, and I nearly lose my balance again. I right myself, but the trees around me begin to spin a little faster. I feel like I’m on an amusement ride, and my stomach churns.

“I need water,” I repeat myself, this time more boldly, though my voice wavers. “I have… I… I have a medical condition.”

He snorts, continuing at his same pace. “Alright.”

“Please,” I say as my head grows lighter, my ears now ringing. “I-I-I don’t think I can make it back. I n-n-need to sit down.” I reach for his arm as he stays a step ahead of me, and my vision begins to blur.

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