Page 95 of Wicked Devotion
Logan stands up straight and walks over to the kitchen counter, where he downs a cup of espresso like it’s a shot.
Slowly, I begin to wonder about the planned activities for tonight, because both men are dressed like hired killers. Black shirts and black cargos, the dimly lit room making it hard to see where the switch from pants to black boots happens.
As we step out of the house, my eyes struggle to adjust tothe darkness around us. The patio lights that were on last night are now off, which makes the transition even harder.
Nervously, I reach for Max’s hand. He and Logan are basically invisible, and I curse myself for complaining aboutmyoutfit instead of demanding that all of us wear high-visibility vests. That, or one of those blinking things you put on dogs.
“Where are we going?” I ask, stepping behind Max as the path gets narrow, still holding his hand like my life depends on it.
And in a way, it really does because I don’t have the slightest sense of orientation. Not in the daylight, and especially not at night.
“Loneman Peak lookout,” Logan answers.
Maybe it’s the darkness or the way the trees and bushes mess with sounds, but it feels like he’s right behind me and ten feet away at the same time.
By now, I can no longer see the cabin or anything more than a faint hint of Max, who moves in front of me. With every step we take into a darkness so thick it prickles on my skin, my pulse quickens.
“Shit,” Max hisses to my left as he trips. He doesn’t fall, but he crouches down and tries to let go of my hand.
“Baby, I can do a lot with one hand, but tying shoelaces isn’t on the list,” he says with a chuckle, and I let go of him.Veryreluctantly.
Logan is barely more than a speck in the darkness, but as moonlight finds its way through the trees, I can clearly see the grin on his face. Canines showing, his gaze sharp and fixed on me.
“Smile, little prey.”
A flash illuminates the darkness, coming so quickly I can’t shield my eyes from the attack. I stumble over uneven ground, trying to find Max, but Max isn’t near, and whenI finally get my vision back enough to see the outline of my hands, I realize I’m alone.
“How funny,” I mutter to myself. “I admit it. I’m scared of the dark,” I say, a bit louder. “You can come out now.”
Silence.
Even the sounds of the forest have fallen silent. No breeze rushes through the leaves, and no small animals scatter around in the distance. It’s a deafening silence, one that acts like a blanket amplifying every beat of my racing heart.
Panic creeps up my spine as I turn to look left and right, trying to figure out which direction we came from.
But in the dead of night, everything looks the same. Trees and more trees, the shadows of their branches looming in the distance like hands waiting to reach out and grab me.
What makes my blood run cold is a single sound that cuts through the silence. Something crunches behind me, a branch breaking beneath the weight of something, and in a split second, I decide to go left.
Taking fast, uncertain steps over the damp, uneven forest ground until my jog turns into a full-blown sprint. Through the trees, I catch sight of a clearing I don’t remember passing, and my stomach clenches.
I turn, wanting to run back, but then another sound resonates through the woods. So close that whoever is on my tail would only need a few determined steps to reach me.
“What a pretty catch.”
Another flash of light robs me of my vision. Fuck running back to the cabin. I need to get away. Run, hide, wait it out, anything.
Blindly, I let my senses lead me, and they lead me right off the beaten path. Branches catch on my clothes, scratching my skin as I run deeper into the woods.
The moment I find myself in the clearing, mybreath is stuck in my throat. Serving myself on a silver platter,a pretty catch, and oh so docile.
A dark figure emerges from the trees, stepping out into the clearing. Out of breath, I turn around to find a hiding place somewhere less exposed, but my body collides with a much bigger one.
Yelping, I want run away, but the grass is too slippery, my legs too shaky, and my pulse so high that every beat of my heart feels like the banging of a drum. I trip, so I try to crawl, when a big hand wraps around my ankle, dragging me back to my captor.
“Running is pointless,” the man behind me grunts as he heaves me toward him.
My shirt rides up, a shiver running down my spine as the chilly night’s air hits the sweaty sheen on my skin.
