Page 162 of Snared Rider

I hit him as hard as I can with my tied wrists, but it’s like trying to catch sand in the wind. He just keeps squeezing my neck.

Simon Wilson is gone.

There’s no humanity left in him, no empathy, nothing. He’s no longer a person capable of compassion. He’s a man on the edge of taking a life, and I can see the thrill in his eyes at that thought.

Darkness that has nothing to do with the fact it’s nightfall creeps into the edge of my vision and I blink rapidly as I stare up at the half-crazed man looming over me. I haven’t pulled in any air since he wrapped his hands around my neck and I know it’s only a matter of time before my body shuts down.

I can already feel it happening.

I should fight more, but my arms and legs feel weighted.

As I lie there waiting for the inevitable, I feel a strange calm, an acceptance that I’m going to die.

Through my hazy vision I see an arm hook around Wilson’s neck and he’s dragged off me viciously. As his hands leave my throat, my whole body stutters for a moment. Then, my lungs remember what they’re supposed to do and I take a hacking breath in.

And it is the most glorious breath I’ve ever taken.

It burns.

It hurts.

But I’m breathing.

I cough and splutter as oxygen floods my body. My vision continues to roll as my back arches off the ground so I can drag in another gasping breath. I’m on autopilot. I’m not driving anything. It’s all just instinct to survive, and I will survive.

Through my dulled senses, I hear yelling. I roll my head across the ground, a motion so difficult I grunt from the exertion. It’s then I see two figures illuminated in white light.

It’s not a white light. It’s a motorcycle headlight.

Where did it come from?

I try to focus on the figures. One is Wilson. To my surprise the other is Logan.

Logan?

What the hell is he doing here? God, did he come here alone?

I want to move, to go to him, but I can’t. My body is lead as I lie in the dirt, watching them slug it out.

Logan is bigger than Wilson, a lot bigger. This gives him the advantage and he’s not afraid to use it. His punches are unrelentingly hard.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh reverberates through the air.

I feel dizzy and I close my eyes to stave off the whirling sensation. I need to throw up, but even that seems like too much effort. I’m shaking, full-blown body tremors running violently through my body as adrenaline flees my system and shock sets in. I’m cold yet hot, and my heart is hammering.

A hand reaches out and touches my shoulder.

I recoil instinctively, my hands lashing out even as my eyes open.

“Baby, it’s me!”

It takes a moment to hear the words, to recognise the voice.

I roll my head in his direction, but that’s all I manage. Everything hurts, my throat the worst, my shoulder a close second, my chest taking third place.

Logan takes me in, his brow knitting together and I see the raw agony in his face.

“Fuck, darlin’.”

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