Page 1 of Ravaged Saints

Prologue

Aspen

Sunlight filters through the treetops, casting shifting shadows across the forest ground, and the air carries the acrid scent of burned wood; it’s recent, as if someone is nearby.

I pick my stuff up. I’ve slept under a tree and some bushes, but with this scent, I know it’s too dangerous to stay put, but as I start to move, a scream echoes through the silent woods.

My heart slams against my ribs, my breath catching; the sound is too close, but I haven’t been near a town in over a month, so there is no way someone would have followed me.

I move quickly, careful not to rustle the leaves beneath me; my hands work on instinct, my bag is already packed, my knife slips into its sheath, and my fingers curl around the cold grip of my gun. I don’t have many bullets, but I have enough to kill whoever might be out there and get enough time to run.

Another scream and a guttural, agonized moan follow, making me squeeze my eyes shut.Don’t listen; it’s not your problem,I murmur to myself,but the pain in that sound twists my stomach because I know what it’s like to scream like that, to be that helpless.

A man’s growl echoes, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand; damn hunters!

Ice rushes through my veins, my breath stutters, and for a split second, I’m not here anymore; I’m back in that room. The way his body pinned me, the way he grunted in my ear, his scent, everything came rushing down on me.

I fought. I begged. Nothing stopped him.

Swallowing hard, I force the memory down as another scream tears through the air.

It sounds too much like mine did that night.

Raw. Desperate. Terrified.

I should run; I should disappear into the woods like I always do, but my feet refuse to move. I can’t leave her there! I won’t leave her there! Fuck this, I’ll cut their throats like I did with Cash; I’m tired of hiding, of feeling fear all the time!

My heart slams against my ribs, screaming at me torun,but I take a shaky breath, steadying myself, my rage surpassing my fear.

Moving carefully, I slip behind the trees, searching for a blind spot, and as I sneak around an old oak, I see her; she looks my age, though we all look older now. Years of sun, hunger, and survival wear you down.

Her long honey-blonde hair is streaked with blood, her torn clothes barely clinging to her bruised body. She’s tied to a tree, but I know I can cut that rope, but where are the hunters?

I wait, crouched and hidden, and I hear them—animalistic voices spitting curses, seeds hitting the dirt as they chew through whatever fruit they’re eating.

One kneels in front of her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head up; he licks her face, moaning.

My stomach twists, and I tighten the grip on my gun.Fuckers!

“Little bitch, tonight’s my turn,” the older one says. His beard is long, his belly is round, and he’s filthy.

There’s no way I’m letting her spend another night with them.

I step back; I need to wait. It’s three against one, but they just got here and left her alone without a second thought. Typical. No one’s around for miles, and the fact that we even crossed paths is one hell of a sick joke.

So all I have to do is wait.

Hours pass, and the sun sinks lower, painting the forest gold. Finally, they leave, but not before one of them stops and presses a kiss on her lips, laughing when she spits at him. I gag along with her, bile rising in my throat.

The Hunters appeared soon after the plague vanished, groups of men whose only intention was to own women, making us their slaves!

The moment they disappear, I move.

I leave my bag farther away so I can move fast. Kneeling behind her tree, I reach around to cover her mouth with my hand. I need her to be quiet. “I’m here to help,” I whisper.

Her eyes snap to mine, her pulse pounding beneath my hand. She shifts her gaze ahead, subtly signaling where they went.

“I know, stay still so I can cut the rope,” I murmur.

---