Page 4 of Steel

Of course, adrenaline plays a huge part in me still functioning.

When I’m far enough in, I stop to create a quick makeshift tourniquet on my thigh to stop the bleeding until I get somewhere safe.

Using the tree trunk as an anchor, I lean my left hip against it to take pressure off my right thigh and grab the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head.

Streaks of fire burning over my skin have me biting my tongue to keep from screaming when I struggle with my injured shoulder.

One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .

Counting the seconds in my head helps keep it clear while I quickly fold the cotton material over until it’s about the width of three of my fingers and then wrap the piece of fabric around my thigh. I spot a thick piece of stick to use as a windlass and place it on top of the knot I created before making another knot to hold it in place. Twisting the thing to tighten the tourniquet is a lot freaking harder when you’ve got a wounded shoulder, but I’m able to get it done by the time I hit thirty-five seconds. Using the loose end of the knot, I secure the windlass in place and check it over one last time.

A trail of blood will do nothing but lead them to me.

Sixty seconds.

I still have a four-minute head start. That’s enough to get the hell out of Dodge. If this adrenaline keeps pumping through me, anyway.

Pushing to my feet with the last bit of energy I have left, I fight my way through the deepest part of the woods, gaining distance from them.

My lips curl a little at the corners listening to their frustration. They should have done more research on the place they were planning on murdering someone. Then, maybe they’d know this place as well as I do.

Their voices fade the farther I get from them.

The abandoned subdivision should be up here somewhere, and I pray I stumble into it soon. My head feels full of cotton, I can barely feel any part of my body as a freeze has settled deep into my core, and I fight to suppress the wave of nausea that tries to roll over me.

My teeth chatter, joining in the harmony of chirps from crickets and hoots from the owls perched on branches.

I’m sure I’ve lost them because the only sounds keeping me company the last few minutes have been the natural melody of the woods, but I still try to keep as fast a pace as my body will allow.

“Thank you, goddess,” I whisper as soon as the break in the trees is in sight.

I drop to the ground when I make it out of the woods and stare around at all the empty houses. If they know these buildings are here, they might try to search them, so I need to pick the one they’d least think I’m in and not one that’s closest to the tree line.

A few houses to the left of me is one that is nearly falling apart. The roof is caved in, windows are broken, doors hang from the hinges, and graffiti decorates its brick foundation.

“Pull yourself together, Bailee. You’ve made it this far. Don’t give up now. Get there and get safe, then call that sexy hunk to come save the day.”

As I give myself a whispered pep talk, I struggle to my feet and let the moonlight guide my way to the hideaway I’ve chosen.

There’s no precious time to waste, but if I miss any blood that possibly leaked from me, I’m just going to lead them right to my hiding spot. So, I walk up to one of the other deserted houses. If they happen to catch any blood drops, this will be the first one they come to.

I’m scared that if I sit down, I won’t have the energy to get back up, so I lean against the side of the house and check the tourniquet around my thigh. No blood is leaking from it, and the windlass is still secured in place.

Guess my brother’s lessons paid off.

Basic first aid was the first thing Reed made me learn when he realized I was going to go traipsing all over the place taking pictures. Then he went over other bits of survival knowledge he thought I would need if something was to ever happen. This is my first time having to use what he taught me, and I hope to goddess I never have to use it again.

This shit sucks.

Normally, I’d keep a first aid kit strapped around my waist, but the calling toward that spot in the woods had all my concentration and I forgot it in my Range Rover.

Crap. My vehicle.

If they find it, I’m so screwed. My little wallet with all my pertinent stuff is in my back pocket, but my registration will have all my information on it.

As much as I want to call my brothers and warn them of the danger that could be coming their way, I need to focus my energy on getting out of here first.

Which means my future hinges on Steel and whether he’s got time to play hero.

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