Page 40 of Love Bleeds Red
Her grip on my hand tightens as we both turn to see headlights breaking through the darkening sky and getting closer by the second.
“Run!” Cat screams, pulling me forward.
I slip on the icy gravel as we sprint up the rest of the driveway. The safety of the woods is only feet ahead. I don’t know if we’ll make it.
Brakes squeal as tires skid to a stop on the dirt road.
Car doors slam.
I keep looking ahead. Keep running.
We crash into the tree line, scraping against branches and scrambling over rocks. Cat stumbles over a pile of frost-covered snow and falls to her knees, but I keep my grip on her sweaty hand, pulling her up. “Come on!”
Behind us, heavy footsteps pound against the forest floor, getting closer. I can’t make out the figures, but my legs start to shake.
“Fuck! My ankle,” Cat cries, as she struggles to stand. I pull her again, holding her up. “B, you should go… run and find help.”
“No, no fucking way. Come on, just keep going. I’ve got you.”
But as I say it, I hear them gaining on us. Cat’s limping so badly now, each step has me carrying more of her weight. I can barely stay upright myself with the panic setting in. There’s no time for that though. I push through, between trees that scratch my skin, over a snowy rotted log.
But the voices behind us are getting clearer. They’re angry, spitting foreign words I don’t understand but recognize.
“There’s nowhere to go!” one of the men yell.
“Bailey, please,” Cat gasps, tears streaming down her face. “You can still make it.”
“Don’t make me shoot!”
Crunching footsteps and snapping branches are so close. I make a desperate sprint, barely holding onto Cat, ignoring her pleas. But as I round a bend, a hand grabs my shoulder and one of the men spins me around. Then another grabs Cat, yanking her away from me. Her fingers slip from mine, the weight of her ripped from my side.
“No!” Cat screams.
I push and pull, trying to get free, but his grip on my shoulder tightens. He seethes against my ear, his warm breath stinking of booze. “Don’t fucking move.”
Then I feel him cram his gun against my back.
“Let her go! Please, just take me!” Cat thrashes against Yuri, but he tosses her over his shoulder, spewing angry words in Russian. Coins spill from her pockets onto the forest floor. She pounds his back, fights with everything she has left.
I should fight too. I should try something, anything. But watching Cat’s plan shatter, seeing the terror in her eyes, something inside me just... breaks. Any amount of fight I have left drains out of me like the blood flowing from Erik’s wound.
I don’t resist when he jabs the gun against my spine, telling me to move. I don’t scream when he pushes me into the backseat of the car. It would be pointless. After the planning, the hope, the taste of freedom—it’s over.
Some part of me always knew it would end this way.
They shoveus back into our room, my body already limp from the tranquilizer. I hear them talking as they drag something heavy down the hallway. Erik’s body, probably. Cat hasn’t said a word since they drugged her. She’s curled up on the bed, staring at nothing, her eyes glassy and unfocused.
I don’t know what to say, but I kneel at the side of the bed, taking her injured ankle in my hand. My movements are slow and sloppy, and vision blurred but it’s easy enough to see that it’s already swelled up to double its size. Without speaking, I grab a thin undershirt from the pile, pull her shoe off, and wrap the injury tight, tucking the fabric into itself.
“Is that okay?” I ask softly, not really expecting an answer.
I climb up onto the bed, not caring about my bloody palms or my dirty scratched up face. Not caring about anything, because caring means feeling, and I’ve had enough of that today. Whatever they do to us, it won’t be worse than the sinking pit I’ve fallen into.
As I get settled in, ready to let sleep pull me under, Yuri’s distinct voice sounds through the closed door. “Yes. Uh, huh. The blonde one. Yes, the junkie.”
He must be on the phone, judging from the one-sided conversation. I tiptoe across the room and put my ear to the door, my heart hammering.
“She was so desperate for her next fix, she would have sold out her own mother. Called the moment they made their move.”
