Page 3 of Brutal Mercy

This can’t be happening. Fear crashes over me. Great huge tidal waves of it until I can’t breathe because I am drowning in alarm. But I can’t stop fighting him, or it will be bad. I know it deep in my soul. Whatever he has planned for me, I’ll wish I was dead. I grab onto my fury and struggle against his hold. “Diego, let me go, please. If you leave right now, I won’t call the police.”

His lips curl in an enraged sneer, and he backhands me. His pinky ring connects with my cheek and gouges my skin. The blow smacks my head against the glass a second time, doubling the pain. If he keeps hitting me this way, I’ll wind up with a concussion, but that’s the least of my worries if I can’t get away from him. Blood seeps down my face. And I hate that I’m crying and trembling.

But I won’t stop fighting him. I can’t. I don’t even want to think about what will happen if I don’t get away from him.

“Don’t ever threaten me again. If you do, I’ll make you pay in ways you never imagined, not even in your darkest nightmares.” He grips the neck of my plaid shirt and rips, exposing the tank top beneath.

Shock hits me, and I freeze as the real impact of what he intends filters through the haze of pain.

Oh my god!

I start hyperventilating. He’s gonna hurt me. Terribly. At the very least, rape me, maybe kill me or kidnap me or all three. Take your pick. It won’t be good. And I’ll wish I was dead before the end.

Lyla.

I can’t give up or give in to the terror.

My absence will destroy my sister. She’ll be left all alone in the world with no family at seventeen. No. This won’t be how my story ends. I refuse to allow it. With the consequences of failure flooding my mind, using every ounce of strength inside me, I jerk my knee up brutally hard between his legs, attempting to drive his balls into his stomach.

Rage and stunned agony consume his face. Then he crumbles to the ground, cupping his crotch with a pained whimper.

I sprint past his prone form. When I reach the office, I realize I can’t stay here. My only chance for survival is to flee and find a safe place to hide. With the mood he’s in, the cops won’t reach me in time. He’ll break the door down before they arrive.

Locking the office door, I swear internally, realizing I left my cell phone beneath the register. I don’t stop to grab anything. Not even my purse. I can’t worry about any of it right now because if I do, I will break down when I need to move as fast as my feet will carry me, or I won’t survive. I race through the back door, staring at the parking lot with my beat-up truck and his fancy Mercedes. My house is a block up the road, with nothing else but mountains and wilderness all around me. The closest civilization is a gas station a mile and a half away. He’ll run me down with his car before I can reach it.

But I can’t go home. He knows where I live. And my only phone is at the register.

Fuck this day!

I have no way to even get inside my house. My keys are in my purse. Without those, there’s only one other choice. With terror dodging every step, I sprint across the parking lot and head into the untamed forest. Racing over loose rocks and dirt, I scrabble up the side of the mountain. If I can make it deep enough into the woods, he won’t be able to reach me, let alone find me. I’ve been hiking these mountains all my life. I know many of the mountain trails by heart. And as long as I don’t veer off them, I’ll be fine.

“Luna, I’m coming for you,puta. You will pay for that.” Diego’s furious voice roars behind me.

Biting back a fearful whimper to mask my location, I climb faster. I know these mountains better than he does. Reaching the dirt entrance to the trailhead, I don’t think. I sprint as fast as I can. As long as I can avoid him, bears, mountain lions, and venomous snakes, I’ll be fine.

Luckily, I was blessed with long legs and ran track in high school. But I hear him thrashing through the bushes behind me. The heavy clomp of his footsteps on the dirt path spurs my terror to epic heights, and I run faster.

“Where are you,puta? Do you think I won’t find you?”

At dangerous speeds, I fly over the trail. Fear pumps through me, urging me to run faster. I lengthen my strides. My breathing is shallow as my limbs awaken to the muscle memory of my track and field days.

I jump over fallen logs, keeping my eyes peeled for predators—human and animal.

I run until my side aches and my feet throb. Until the store and civilization are a distant memory. And I’m surrounded by mountains and forest, the deciduous trees beginning to change into their autumn splendor.

I run until I’m winded and gasping for breath. Until I can no longer hear him chasing me.

Fuck, I’m out of shape. It’s been ages since I’ve run like this and for this length of time. Around the next bend in the trail, my feet stumble, and I slam onto the ground over loose gravel. My right knee connects with a sharp rock, ripping my jeans and shredding my skin. I wince at the agony throbbing in my knees.

Get up. Run.I shout at myself internally.

And I crawl to my feet, resuming my haphazard trek. Every footfall aches. My knees throb. My face hurts.

And I pray I don’t encounter any cougar or bears because it’s doubtful I’ll be able to defend myself.

My survival instinct drives me onward, and I lose track of how far I’ve run. The further I go, the land around me loses all familiarity. This is a part of the forest I don’t think I’ve ever been in. Did I miss a turn or split in the trail?

Shit! I can’t head back. It’s not safe. Except I’m losing steam. Pushing myself further, I take a turn too sharply. My foot lands on uneven ground, and my ankle twists.

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