Page 13 of Chasing the Wild
Behind him, a bloody trail carves through the snow where it drips onto the ground.
In my line of work, I’m no stranger to the reality of ranch life. Death is an ever-present part of vet work and managing livestock and rural living. But the gruesome sight of himcarrying a freshly killed animal feels more confronting than I was prepared for.
The man before me heaves the body onto the flatbed of his truck and turns to look at me. He’s coated in crimson, and the smell is even more overwhelming up close. There’s hot, thick, pooling blood collecting on the ground from where the head has been severed.
His sharp gaze flicks between me and my shitty little car, and recognition colors his features.
“Is Kayce here?” My stomach churns.
“Thought you two were broken up.” He tosses a giant knife down beside the gutted animal. The blade glistens, slick with red as it clatters against the metal. I find myself unable to look away from the slaughtered beast laid out right before me.
“We are.” I can’t get into this with him right now. My skin feels prickly as all hell. I just need this money disaster sorted and can’t wait to get out of here before that ominous-looking weather rolls in. You don’t need to live on a mountain to know things are always more extreme, more likely to flip on a dime, at altitude. “I just… I need to talk to him is all.”
“He knock you up?”
Jesus. What the fuck?
Speechless doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling right now. Who the hell does this asshole think he is?
I don’t know if this man thinks my silence is agreement or what, but he strides right up to me and crosses his arms. Giving me the all too familiar ice-glare from months ago as he looms large and macabre-looking with the evidence of his kill coating his skin.
“Kayce isn’t here. Try one of the bars in town.” With that, he stomps past me up the steps and kicks off his boots at the door.
Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.
A snowflake lands on the back of my hand, and that cold kiss against my skin seems to galvanize me into action.
“Whatever,” I mutter and turn back for my car. My teeth are gritted so tight there’s every chance I’m going to crack a molar, and I yank the door open with far more force than necessary.
The giant dickhead watches me from just outside his front door, as if he’s standing guard to make sure I leave his property.
Gladly.Asshole.
I shove the key in the ignition and chuck the car in reverse, not bothering to look behind me before I tear out of the yard. Blinding rage sweeps right down the back of my neck beneath my sweater.
Rounding the first bend, I see the clumps of snow start to drift faster and harder in my rearview mirror as the ominous outline of Devil’s Peak disappears behind a cluster of pine trees.
Good fucking riddance. Now, I’ve just got to get back into town and ransack every inch of Crimson Ridge until I chase down my good-for-nothing ex.
I’m still smarting from the way that man just spoke to me. The scathing tone of his voice and immediate assumption about my circumstances has my hands shaking.
God, I wish that I could have come back with something smart in response. Instead of standing there gaping at him with nothing to say.
The gravel road curves up ahead, as I make my way deeper into the forest. Except, when I continue following the path back down the mountain the car starts to shudder beneath me. My heart is in my throat as it fishtails a little and I’m suddenly seeing just how steep the drop off on the side of the road is, plummeting into the darkness of the ravine below.
The jolting gets worse, and my car gives a groan as I apply the brake and pull over to the side. With an awful demonic sound, it lurches to a halt with a relentless knocking. Steam proceeds tobillow from under the hood. There’s a grinding of metal against metal and a heavy clank that absolutely doesn’t sound good, before everything dies. All the lights on my dash pop on at the same time.
“No. No. No. Come on, come onnnn.” Praying to whatever patron saint of motor vehicles exists out there, I try the key in the ignition, but it doesn’t even turn over. Nothing flickers. I’m greeted by stubborn silence and the stench of burnt oil. My Honda sits there as lifeless as the corpse I just witnessed being dumped in the back of Colton Wilder’s truck.
All the while, thick clumps of snow settle on my windshield so fast, that within seconds I can’t see the hood of my car any longer.
I’m so fucked.
Chapter 5
There’s a girl nearly half my age standing in my kitchen with puffy red eyes. It looks like she’s either going to try and swing at me, or crumple like a tissue.
“I just need to arrange a tow truck.Please.” She won’t fucking sit down, even though I’ve offered her a stool at the kitchen island several times.
