Page 6 of The Wrong Drive-
And painsearsthrough my hand.
I drop my gaze down, seeing my shattered phone…and blood.A lot of blood.Holy shit.
Did I… Did I just… Did I just getshot?
The wind tears my hood from my head, and I drop the phone into the snow, droplets of crimson staining the white powder as I do. I blink back tears and charge into the trees, cradling my hand as I try to get a grip.
What the hell just happened?
I try to catch my breath as I lean against the tree, my back to the cabin. I turned down the wrong drive, obviously. Obviously, these aren’t themostly nicepeople I was hoping for. But still, this has to be a misunderstanding.
I get the trespasser thing, I do. I get backwoods vigilantes. But seriously, I mean no harm. I’mjuststuck. I don’t want to hang out here. I don’t want to steal their shit and sell it for meth.
My eyes drop once again to my bleeding hand, seeing the bullet grazed the inside of my palm. I can’t tell how bad it is right now—and I don’t have time to worry about it. I tuck it up under the bottom of my black coat and squeeze, trying to stop the bleeding and calm my racing heart.
Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it was just meant to scare me.
But those thoughts don’t calm the terror pulsing through my veins. I could easily die out here. If the asshole that shot at me doesn’t finish the job, the elements will. My phone is ruined, too. I take a deep breath, gathering the courage to peer around the tree in the direction of the cabin.
Finally, I spot someone, and while I can’t make out the details, Icansee the rifle in his hands…anda massive dog lunging at the end of a leash.
I swallow hard.Definitely not a nice person.
His white camouflage parka hood and black neck warmer hide his face, and even through the snow, I can tell he’s a big guy.Teeth chattering as the wind whips through the trees, I wrap my arms around myself, trying to ignore the red liquid staining the snow around my legs. I have to be standing in at least six to eight inches of snow—and it’s only going to get deeper.
I glance back to the porch, where the man still stands, appearing to be scanning the area. My legs feel weak and numb beneath my dark jeans. My hand burns, and I try to think through what I should do.
Do I call out again? Do I try to run back to the gate or my truck? Tears slide down my face as I tip my head back, closing my eyes.
Ugh. What the fuck do I do?
The dog bays again, the sound now more terrifying than before. I try to breathe, feeling frozen in place. Ihaveto come up with a plan,pronto.I’ve never been so torn in my entire life, and as I lean to look again, I hope I’m not making a stupid mistake.
“My truck is stuck,” I shout, pleading with him as his head jerks in my direction. A shudder rolls down my spine as the black and tan dog on the porch responds with an even more urgent bark inmydirection. “I just made a wrong turn, please help me.”
I sound so fucking stupid.
But still, I wait for the man’s response, and hold my breath as he tucks the rifle under his arm. My gaze follows him as he leans over…
And unsnaps the leash from the dog’s collar.
You have to be kidding me.
A high-pitched whistle follows the wind, and I realize just how bad this is about to be as the dog bounds down the porch steps and into the snow.
Will the dog attack? Or just…findme?
My eyes drift down to the snow, fresh blood smattered across it. A rumble of thunder jars me into motion, and I stumble away, deeper into the woods but in the direction of the road.
Please don’t let me die today. Please.
Chapter 3
Turner
One.Two. Three. Four.
I declare a cold war.
