Page 57 of Reaper & Ruin
I didn’t hesitate. “Come on,” I said to Heather, grabbing her hand and pulling her off the couch. Malivore was still growling, her body tense and ready to spring. “We need to move. Now.”
Heather nodded, her eyes wide but focused. She trusted me, and I didn’t have time to be grateful for that. Instead, we both shoved sneakers on, and I led her to the back window, checking back as I moved.
I grabbed Atlas’s knife from the counter and handed it to Heather. “Take this. Stay close to me and remember our emergency plan.”
She took it without question, her fingers tightening around the handle as she nodded. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, lifting my gun again. I wasn’t about to let anything happen to her, regardless of what was outside. “Just stay behind me and be a good girl. Everything will be okay.”
We quickly climbed out of the window and slipped out of the cabin, Malivore leading the way. The night was pitch black, but I knew the path by heart. The woods were dense here, tall trees looming overhead, the air thick with tension. Every twig that snapped underfoot sent a jolt of adrenaline through me.
But it was quiet. Too quiet.
“Keep going,” I urged, squeezing Heather’s hand before I let go. “Run to the rocks. I’ll cover you.”
Heather hesitated, glancing back at me. “Gio, I’m not leaving you—”
“You are.” My voice was firm, but I softened it as I leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right behind you. Now go.”
She swallowed hard, her eyes lingering on mine for a split second before she nodded and took off, running into the darkness with Malivore at her side.
I watched her disappear into the shadows, my chest tightening with every step she took away from me. But I didn’t have time to dwell on it. The faint sound of movement caught my attention—a rustling in the trees just ahead.
Shit.
I raised my gun just as the first masked figure appeared, their movements quick and calculated. In an instant, I realized they weren’t amateurs who were out to steal from us orsomething minor. These were professionals, and that meant only one thing.
My father had made his move.
He’d found us.
They lunged at me, but I fired first, the bullet hitting its mark. The figure crumpled to the ground, but two more emerged from the shadows, moving faster than I anticipated. One of them swung a blade at me, and I barely dodged in time, the sharp edge grazing my arm as I twisted away.
I fired again, taking down the second attacker, but the third was already on me. He slammed into my side, knocking the gun from my hand as I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of me.
I struggled to get up, but before I could, another figure appeared—then another.Shit, there were too many of them.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath as one of them grabbed me by the arm, forcing me onto my knees as they cuffed my wrists with rope.
I didn’t fight. I couldn’t—not against all of them. My only thought was of Heather, hoping—praying—that she was safe, that she was still running and wouldn’t look back.
Atlas would be here soon, and when he came, everything would be fine.
I was sure of it…
Chapter Eighteen, Count For Me
The woods swallowed me whole as I ran, the oppressive darkness clinging to me like a second skin. Every thud of my boots against the dirt path felt like it reverberated through my skull. My pulse hammered in my ears, drowning out all sense of reason. Malivore, bless her, darted alongside me, her paws a rhythmic thud-thud-thud that almost matched my ragged breathing.
She didn’t leave me behind, even though she could have.
“Run,” I whispered to her, even though she didn’t need the encouragement. “Just keep running.”
I wished I had the same determination she did. My heart was in my throat, panic creeping up my spine as I clutched Atlas’ fancy knife like a lifeline. The blade glinted in the moonlight, a cruel reminder that I was far from defenseless—but God, did it feel like I was.
The trees seemed to close in on me, shadows stretching their long fingers toward me as if they could sense the fear pulsing through my veins. There was a tight knot in my stomach—whether from sheer panic or the sheer amount of candy I’d consumed, I couldn’t tell anymore. Maybe both.
There’s a hideout, Heather. Remember? You’re not helpless. You’ve got this.
