Page 109 of Spinner's Luck
I bolted out the back door, my feet slamming against the ground as I raced into the open field behind the station. The tall grass brushed my legs, slowing me down, but I didn’t stop.
The engines grew louder.
I pushed harder, lungs burning as the tree line loomed ahead. If I could make it into the woods, I might have a chance. I had to make it.
But the roar of bikes was deafening now, splitting the night like a death knell.
“Come on,” I whispered, desperate.
I hit the trees, the darkness swallowing me whole.
Branches tore at my arms, my legs, but I barely felt them. The bikes were muffled now, the thick canopy distorting the sound, but they were out there. Hunting me.
Then—I fell.
My foot caught on something—a root, a rock, I didn’t know, and I went down hard, my hands scraping against the rough ground. Pain flared through my palms, but I bit down on a cry, crawling behind a fallen log.
Silence.
Worse than the noise.
I pressed my back against the wood, sucking in short, shallow breaths. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.
Then, I heard them.
Voices.
“She couldn’t have gone far,” one of them said, his voice rough, irritated.
“Fan out,” another barked. “Check the woods. She’s here somewhere.”
My stomach twisted, and I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag.
I’d gotten away before. I could do it again.
But as the sound of footsteps crept closer, doubt slithered in.
Then came the worst sound yet—slow, deliberate footsteps.
Like something out of a horror movie.
I pressed myself tighter against the log, my breath barely there, my heartbeat a frantic hammer. I hadn’t made a sound. I’d been careful.
But they’d found me anyway.
And then—
“Come out, love.”
Fang’s voice curled through the trees, a low, mocking whisper.
“The only way you’re getting’ away from me is in a body bag. And even then, I might dig you back up.”
A ghostly chill dragged its claws down my back.
I clutched my bag tighter, fingers trembling. I had to move. Staying here was a death sentence.
I eased up, shifting to my hands and knees, ready to bolt deeper into the brush.
