Page 5 of Brutal Prince

Indi

Half an hour later, I realize someone’s following me. Suddenly, an early-evening stroll through the woods to clear my head doesn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.

I know I should hurry back to Marigold’s house as if the Big Bad Wolf himself is after me, except…

I’m lost.

Yeah, I love the outdoors, but that doesn’t mean I know how to navigate using the stars and shit. And the woods in and around Lakeview don’t have shit on this place. I’d been following a path that became fainter and fainter, until I wasn’t following anything anymore except my desperate need for space.

I glance around, but see nothing. I tug my hood up a little higher, wishing it was black and not beige. At least that way I could slip away into the shadows.

I break into a trot.

A second later, so does the person following me.

My trot turns into a slow run.

My pursuer speeds up.

I begin sprinting.

I dart between the trees, and barely avoid falling flat on my face when a root snags my sneaker. Catching myself against a tree trunk, I pause for all of one breath before I hear foliage snapping and breaking behind me.

I shove away from the tree and break into a run.

My breath comes hot and fast, my lungs screaming for me to stop. But if I do, I’m dead. I mean, why the hell else would some random guy be chasing me if he doesn’t want to slit my throat? It’s not as if I dropped my wallet or something.

I bat branches and leaves out of my way, forcing myself not to look back, knowing the second I do, I’ll trip, fall, be gutted to death.

Instead, I squint forward. Finally, a dark shape looms up ahead. I skid to a halt as I gape at the remains of a church. The roof and two of the walls are caved in. Brambles have reclaimed much of the structure, leaves and drifts of dirt the rest. But there’s no mistaking the cross that used to be on the tower, even if it’s stuck upside down in a hillock of soil that’s grown moss and small shrubs all over it.

And here I was trying to find my way back to my gran’s house.

I want to laugh, but I’m too busy panting. Thundering footsteps push me out of my trance, and I dart into the midnight depths of the church. My heart thumps too hard, too loud, as I hunt around furiously for somewhere to hide.

* * *

Briar

I slow down to a walk,allowing my breathing to return to normal after the first leg of my evening run. I love these woods on a Sunday night. So quiet. Nothing but me and the trees. Early evening is best, of course, when there’s just enough ambient light to make out the well-worn path between my house and the church.

Back in the day, I played cops and robbers in these woods with my best friend, Marcus. The church would always end up being the site of our inevitable Mexican standoffs. But fuck, that was more than eight years ago now. I don’t even go inside the building I just use it as a landmark during my evening run. Halfway.

It’s a challenging run; largely on an incline, and veering around the tangled foliage and the wicked thorns that give these woods their name. I’ve torn plenty of my clothes up here, and even had some scars added to my existing ones. The church itself is still a ways off, but I know this path so well I could walk it blindfolded.

I heave in a huge breath, mentally readying myself for another sprint, before a faint snapping of twigs reaches me. I let out a slow breath, straining to hear over the rush of blood in my ears.

I’m not alone anymore.

Wolves have been spotted here before. It’s one of the reasons we were told never to play here when we were kids. Not that me and Marcus ever fucking cared.

As I listen, the sounds transform into footsteps.

Who the fuck dares to walk in my woods?

I bunch my jaw and change direction, angling toward the intruder.

By the time I get close enough to spot the idiot, it’s so dark I can barely make them out.

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