Page 12 of Hunted for the Holidays

“Derek?” I call out nervously. “I have to pee!”

It’s not completely a lie, but surely that should get their attention since they left me tied to the bed naked. I wait a little longer, straining to listen for the sounds of boots thundering against the old wooden floor, but still I’m met with nothing but continued silence.

“Wyatt!” I shout, raising my voice.

Silence.

“Derek! Wyatt!” I yell, thrashing my hands around, the bed creaking and whining with the motion. “I’m going to pee the bed, goddamn it!”

My throat tightens as I start to panic in earnest.They wouldn’t leave me alone here, would they?The last time I thought I was alone, I walked straight into a trap. I wasn’t tied to the bed then, though. Darting a glance up to where the rope binds my wrists and hooks over the post, a gleam of silver catches my eyes. Without the decorative knob, the exposed point of a thick screw sticks up in the air.

I swallow roughly, my mind spinning. If I get caught trying to escape again, I don’t know if my punishment will be something as simple as edging.But I have to try, right?It’s absolutely insane to think that any of this is normal or that I could have any semblance of a future with these monsters. Ishouldtry to escape.

Pinning my bottom lip between my teeth, I carefully start to drag the rope back and forth across the sharp edges of the screw, the rough fibers biting further into my wrists as I try to saw myself free. I’m starting to lose hope, heat from the frictionburning my already raw skin. Just as I’m about to abandon the plan, though, the first little piece gives way, frayed edges springing up.

Hell yes!

With all the energy I can muster, I move faster, pulling the rope tighter against the screw. More pieces snap until finally, the screw cuts through the last layer of the first loop. Blood rushes to my fingertips, waves of static vibrating under my skin at the first sign of relief. I wiggle around enough that the knots Wyatt so expertly tied loosen, eventually falling to the ground.

Jumping up from the bed, I feel warmth trickle down my wrists, but I don’t have time to bother with inspecting the wounds. If the guys are gone, it won’t be for long. There’s no way in hell they’d leave me here, bound or not, for too long. Derek sliced away most of my clothes, but miraculously, my leggings were saved. I slip them on quickly and rush to the door. Surely one of the guys have a shirt of some sort I can steal.

I twist the doorknob slowly, begging the hinges not to squeak as I ease it open. The hall is quiet as I tip-toe down it towards the other doors. The first one is wide open, and I peer inside to see a camouflage duffle bag resting on the neatly made bed. If I had to guess, it’s Wyatt’s room. Derek doesn’t seem the type to tuck his covers so tightly.

I dart inside and rifle through the bag, pulling out a dark green hoodie. It swallows me whole when I pull it on overhead, the hem hitting just above my knees, but it’ll have to do. Tugging on a pair of thick wool socks, I leave the room to hunt down more supplies for my escape.

Finding a small nylon backpack, I fill it with bottled water, a rogue knife and a flashlight, adjusting the straps on my shoulders as I step out the cabin and onto the porch. The cold bite of the wind cuts across my face, burning more than any ofKit’s slaps ever did. I pull down the skeletal ski mask that I found in Derek’s room, bound down from the porch, andrun.

I have no idea where I’m going. I’m directionally challenged, to say the least. Even with the navigation package in my Range Rover, I still manage to get lost multiple times a week.

My ski boots are heavy as I push myself further into the cover of the trees. The thick pines conceal most of the sunlight, causing me to stumble a few times, but I keep going. Adrenaline floods my system the further I get, my lungs burning with each breath until I finally stop to rest.

A chill races down my spine as I shove up the ski mask and the icy air meets the sheen of sweat gathered on my skin. My heart hammers in my chest as I double over with my hands on my knees, gulping in air.

As my breathing slows, I swivel my head around and try to decide which way to go. To the right, the trees start to thin, making me think it could open up and lead to a trail. I slowly start in that direction, looking over my shoulder at every single snap of a twig or rustle of branches, paranoid that the guys have discovered I’m gone.

It’s fine, Charlotte. Standing here only gives them an advantage. Just keep walking.

The sun glares off the undisturbed snow in the clearing, the pines flocked with a light dusting of white. The view is breathtaking. If Kit did anything right, it was choosing such a beautiful place to spend Christmas. Murder and kidnapping aside, it really is a lovely holiday location.

Taking a few more minutes to soak up the view, my heart leaps into my throat at what sounds like voices in the distance. I can’t make out what they’re saying or how many there are, but it definitely sounds like a group.

Excitement surges through me and I take off in the direction they sound like they’re coming from. I can get help, I can gohome, I can take a bubble bath in the whirlpool tub with a nice glass of champagne... the mere thought of my luxurious life drives my feet to move faster.

I near a rocky edge, the voices getting louder as they reverberate around the valley below. I’ve never been so excited to see a group of burly strangers before in my life. I’m about to scream for their attention when I hear my name, and it’s like being doused in a bucket of ice water, freezing me on the spot and stealing my voice.

How do they know my name?No one was supposed to know we were out here. Kit didn’t want anyone to be near us on this getaway, hence the renting of the whole damn mountain.

I sink to my knees, keeping myself out of sight as I listen in on their conversation.

“Remember, recovering Charlotte is the primary objective. Kit is nothing more than the possibility of an additional payday.”

“I can’t believe that crazy old bastard put a five-million-dollar bounty on the pair of them. If they’ve been gone for days past when they were supposed to return, they’re either dead or ran off together.”

“Yeah, that pussy must be worth a fortune if he’s willing to pay that much to have it returned to the next highest bidder.”

What the fuck? My dad? He’s seriously just going to auction me off to the next wealthy asshole in line? Continue with the wedding like nothing's wrong, even though my fiance was murdered before my eyes?

“It doesn’t matter why. Secure the little bitch, unharmed, and we return her fully intact to her dad. What he does with her after that is his own twisted business.”

---