Page 71 of Vicious Sabotage

Her boots crunched on the gravel road. The pines lining the sides cast black shadows for her to walk through. The needles brushed her shoulders in spots when she swayed too close to the side of the road.

Was she moving toward Eden or away? Did it matter anymore?

Her head throbbed, and her nose was running. She used the hem of her top to wipe it, but not even that human action improved her spirits.

She walked for what felt like miles. The sky changed colors, from the deep black of night to purple. It was cold out here too, and she only wore her Badlands T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

When she spotted a road branching to the right, she paused, staring in shock at the object on a wooden post. A mailbox.

She couldn’t be that far from town if the resident had mail delivery.

The person who lived here could be a rapist or serial killer. None of those thoughts deterred her from walking down that eternally long driveway and up to a dark house in the middle of the woods.

After knocking on the door for what felt like another hour, a man finally came to the door wearing pajama pants and a T-shirt. She told him that her car broke down and she’d walked a long way and she’d lost her phone.

He allowed her to use his phone, but once she had it in her hand, she stopped.

Who could she even call? She had no one left. No parents, a sister states away.

No Carver.

Her heart lurched, and fresh tears blurred her vision as she dialed the only number she had memorized. The Graceys’.

The male voice on the other end of the line sounded like it had some age to it.

“Mr. Gracey?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“It’s Livia. I’m friends with Meadow and Ivy. Can you please put one of them on the phone?”

“I’m sorry, but they’re not home.”

“It’s the middle of the night. Where could they be?”

The answer slammed her.

Looking for her.

Looking for Carver.

Her heart squeezed.

“Mr. Gracey, I have a huge favor to ask. Could you pick me up?”

Forty minutes later, a truck with the Gracey Ranch logo pulled up to the house where she waited. She thanked the man for letting her stay and apologized for waking him.

When she was settled in the passenger seat, she battled against her sobs. She was exhausted, alone, battered. Grief was a black shadow hanging over her.

Her friends’ father had been through an ordeal with a bad heart, and he’d lost a good amount of weight. She sent him a sidelong look and found him staring at her the same way.

“I guess you should know why I was on that mountain.”

“Bad boyfriend? A breakup?”

“No. Jered Smythe kidnapped me—then threw me out of the vehicle in the middle of nowhere.”

He almost veered off the road. In the dim light coming off the dashboard, she saw his face pale at her statement.

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