Page 77 of Stream & Scream
“I got you. Just breathe. Don’t think about anything else.”
The trail is one I marked days ago, scars in bark, rocks stacked just right, a dip where an old fire cut through. I don’t need to see it. I feel it in my bones. The ground’s soft from old rain, mud sucking at my boots. Thorns from a bush claw across my vest, snagging fabric. One cracks across my cheek, reopening the cut from his headbutt. Doesn’t fucking matter.
She stumbles again, harder this time. Knees buckle. I catch her before she hits the dirt.
“Fuck,” I grit. Her head lolls, lashes barely moving. She’s slipping.
“No. No, baby, not now.” My voice is a snarl, sharp with panic. I tap her cheek once. Her eyes flutter but don’t hold. Her fingers twitch against my vest, then go slack.
That’s it. Enough.
I scoop her up in both arms, cradled tight to my chest. My side screams, ribs grinding under the weight, blood slicking my hip, and my ankle throbs and threatens to give out. But I ignore all of it. Because she’s mine, and I’ll fucking die in this forest if it means getting her out alive.
Her breath is weak against my throat, shallow but there. That’s enough to keep my legs moving.
The forest crowds close. Dark trunks blur past, roots knot underfoot. I duck under a low branch, turn sideways to clear a narrow choke between two trees. My back smashes bark, pain lances my shoulder. I ignore it. I move faster.
Every breath is loud, ragged, rattling up my chest like chains dragging. My vision tunnels on the path ahead. Past the creek bed. Up the ridge. Down again. At the end of it waits the truck. Parked off-road, hidden under a deadfall canopy. Fueled. Armed. Ours.
Behind us, the woods carry distant echoes, dogs barking, men shouting, the chop of blades cutting closer. Doesn’t matter. They won’t reach her.
I tighten my arms around her, hold her face into my chest so she doesn’t see the blood smeared down my vest. “You’re okay,” I whisper against her hair, words rough and raw. “I’ll get you there. I swear it.”
Her head tips against my collarbone, limp. I don’t slow.
Twigs snap. Mud slides. My body bleeds. I don’t stop.
Because every step brings us closer to the truck. Closer to getting her the fuck out of these woods.
And I’ll carry her all the way there if I have to.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Olivia
Early Monday morning
The first thing I feel is his warmth. He’s holding me against his chest, protecting my body from the early morning chill that would otherwise seep into my bones and reminding me exactly how close I came to never waking up at all.
The second sensation is pain. My thigh burns, each step that carries me forward sending fresh waves of pure agony surging through me. My throat feels raw, marked by hands that tried to squeeze the life out of me.
But I'm alive. Still breathing, still conscious, still existing in this fucked up world.
Because of him.
I don’t have to open my eyes to know whose arms are carrying me through the forest like I weigh nothing at all. The familiar scent, the steady rhythm of breathing, the careful way he adjusts his grip to avoid hurting me more—all of it confirms what my heart already knew.
He came back. He kept his promise and arrived exactly when I needed him most…
Hesavedme.
When I finally force my heavy eyes open, the first thing I notice is that he's not wearing his gear anymore. The tactical vest is gone, the utility belts and equipment harnesses have been stripped away, leaving just a man in dark clothing carrying the girl he thinks is worth throwing it all away for.
His face is set in stone, jaw clenched as he walks. He hasn’t noticed I’m awake yet, watching him.
His eyes are locked on the path ahead, scanning anything that might pop out at us. Every dark corner could hide another hunter, every sound could mean they’ve sent reinforcements to finish what the first failed to complete.
Dawn is breaking around us, painting the forest in shades of gold and green. The screams that have haunted me since Friday night have finally stopped, leaving only silence broken by the steady crunch of his boots against fallen leaves and the shallow puffs of my breathing.
