Page 59 of Sanctuary (The Wanderers 1)

“There you are,” he shouted. “I knew it. Give it up, bitch. You were never going to get away from me.” He was running now, his light hitting her over and over as she raced toward the fallen log, hoping for what?

Dammit. She would not let this man catch her. Would he kill her after he raped her or take her back to his people and pass her around?

She shuddered, blood pumping faster as she shrugged out of her pack and dropped it. Where are you, Jay? I need you. I need all of you.

“Stop running, bitch. It’s over,” Ike shouted.

Never. Not in a million years.

She reached the log, leaped over the top, and looked around, heart racing, hands shaking. Grabbing a vine, she cut it loose from one end, deciding it might be useful. With the other end still attached, she crouched down and waited.

You can do this. You have to. You’ve prepared your entire life for a confrontation like this.

“I see where you are, stupid bitch,” Ike screamed. His voice was close, but she waited several more seconds until she could see his shadow looming over the log. Suddenly, she jumped up and held her end of the vine as high as she could, pulling it tight.

Her timing was perfect. The moment Ike jumped over the log, he slammed into the vine and was knocked backward, falling onto his ass on the other side of the log.

Layla turned and ran as hard as she could, not sure how much time she’d bought herself. She aimed for the road now. She had to hope that someone would drive by and save her. She had to hope that the next car that went by was friendly. It was risky, but so was letting Ike catch her. She’d only bought herself seconds.

She never made it to the road. Ike was quick to recover. She could hear him on her heels in moments. The only thing she had going for her was the knowledge he was unlikely to shoot at her or kill her. Not until he was done with her at least.

He was literally breathing down her neck when she decided to spin around and confront him, knife raised.

He laughed as he circled her. “Drop the knife. It’s over. You’re mine.”

Never.

He pulled out a gun and held it up, aiming at her head.

Ironically, she knew he wouldn’t shoot her. There was little chance of that. Unless he was into necrophilia. The man had one of two objectives—rape her and leave her or take her so that more people could rape her. She was useless to him dead. He hadn’t spent the last several hours chasing her through the forest in order to kill her.

“Put the knife down, bitch.”

She said nothing as she continued to step back, keeping her feet positioned wide, her balance equally distributed—a stance her father had taught her.

“I said to put the fucking knife down,” he shouted.

“Go to hell,” she seethed.

“You’re only making things harder on yourself. Put it down, and I’ll go easy on you. Continue to fight me, and I’ll make sure it hurts when I fuck your tight cunt.”

She shuddered inside but forced herself not to let his words or language get under her skin.

They were in a standoff, doing a dance, circling around several times as they both shuffled their feet. Suddenly, he lunged for her, and when he did, she jerked the long blade of her knife front and center, grabbed his shirt collar, and let herself fall backward.

He was caught off-guard, stumbled to prevent himself from falling forward, but lost the battle in the end. He cried out as he came down on top of her, his eyes wide as she held the knife straight up in the air, impaling him in the sternum.

His eyes went wider, his mouth opened, but no words came out as his body slumped over hers.

She quickly fought to dislodge his heavy frame from on top of her, shoving him to the side while she reached for his gun and yanked it out of his hand. There was no way she was going to take a chance that he might rally and shoot her.

But he was dead weight, well and truly gone from this earth.

Heaving for every breath, she scrambled to standing, his gun dangling from her hand, her knife lost to her because there wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to retrieve it.

She stared at him for a moment, kicked his body a few times, and then spun around and headed back for her pack. She needed the provisions in case she was stuck out here for hours or days. After finding it, she ran toward the road. Ike’s partner, Stan, was still out there somewhere, but so were her partners in life, the men she should have listened to before she took off half-cocked in an effort to prove she could take care of herself.

Granted, she had taken care of herself, at least so far. Surely her luck wouldn’t run out on her now. Besides, Stan didn’t seem quite as irrational as his buddy had been. He’d been going along with the ruse with very little desire.

Who might come looking for Ike though? And when? These were important questions she didn’t have the answers to. She had one goal. Get to the road. Hurry back toward the post. Pray she found Jeremy and Tarin and perhaps her partners.

She was tired. Exhausted really. From having adrenaline pumping through her system for so long. But she didn’t slow down. She ran, grateful when she hit the road. She didn’t even try to hide herself anymore. She needed to get to safety as quickly as possible.

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