Page 17 of Primal

I had waved her off nonchalantly. “That’s ridiculous, Mom. That’llneverhappen. Stop being so paranoid.”

But she wasn’t being paranoid, because look at me now. I would give anything to have her here with me right now, to help me get out of this mess I’ve gotten myself into. I’m completely at the mercy of a stranger, a man who has given me more pleasure than I’ve experienced in years, but also terrifies the absolute hell out of me because I don’t know exactly what he’s capable of.

I need to figure out how to get out of this situation alive.

I don’t have many options. I can either hope he doesn’t have another key and wait it out until morning, or I can bolt out of the truck right now and try to run for help.

The second option might be the stupidest, because he has a gun, and I have no idea if he wants to use it on me.

My captor taps on the glass again to get my attention. When I look at him, I’m horrified to see that he’s got his gun pointed straight at me.

“Shit,” I curse desperately, hitting the steering wheel. I can’t believe this is happening.

I scoot to the passenger side and put my hand on the door, fingers poised to pull up the lock.

I’m not ready to die. There’s still so much I want to do, places I want to travel to, food I want to try…

I want to see Grandma again and tell her how much I love her. Yolanda will be waiting for me at our favorite restaurant tomorrow night—what will she do when I don’t show up? Will she be worried that this man might have done something to me, or will she just assume that I didn’t want to come? She doesn’t have a description of him becauseIdon’t even know what he looks like.

Taking a deep breath, I finally unlock the door, and he opens it from the outside. He hadn’t given me a chance to put on shoes, so my toes curl when my bare feet land in a small puddle.

A chill permeates the air, and lightning cuts through thick clouds as the brontide cautions an oncoming storm. I wrap my arms around myself and look around, trying to see where we are in the darkness, but I don’t even have the light of the moon to show me.

I flinch when I feel something on my back. When I go to turn around, my captortsksand grabs my face to turn it away from him.

“I’ll give you a five-minute head start, baby,” he murmurs in my ear, gun poised against the small of my back.

Despite myself, I shiver from the warmth of his breath on my skin. I’mfreezingin these skintight clothes.

“A head start for what?” I whisper, teeth chattering.

“To run. And you better not let me catch you, because if you do, I’lldevouryou,” he growls, the sound raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

I make a beeline for the road, but he yanks me back and pushes me toward the dark forest.

I don’t have a choice.

As I sprint toward the forest, I only have the flashes of lightning to guide my way. My bare feet pound on the forest floor as I try to put distance between him and me. I block out the thoughts of the predators lurking in here, desperately hoping I don’t become some creature’s meal tonight.

But that might be preferable to what my captor has planned for me.

I can hear him not too far behind me; his footsteps are loud as he follows me further into the woods.

It hasn’t even been five minutes yet!

“You liar!” I shout into the darkness. I cry out when my toe catches on a thick branch and I go tumbling to the ground. I scramble to get up, but he’s on me in seconds.

“Please!” I scream, twisting in his grip to get him to let me go. “Leave me alone!”

“Leave me alone!” he screams back, mocking me. His grip is harsh as he pins me against a tree with one hand. He uses the other to take off his belt.

I furiously shake my head. “No! No, please?—!”

My cries are cut off by a sharp crack to the face.

“Be a good girl and shut the fuck up,” he growls in my ear, stroking my stinging cheek.

I’m silent as he ties my wrists to a branch above my head with his belt, tears streaming down my face and soaking into the fabric of my tank top. In the darkness, I can just barely make him out as he takes off his ski mask. I so desperately want to see him, to commit to memory the face of my murderer.

---