Page 94 of Last Resort (The Collector Trilogy 3)

A huge, screeching crash echoes through the woods, and I freeze, stumbling behind a tree. I fight back a scream. That sounded like a car accident. A bad one. I don’t know what to do. Was it the van, or someone else? If you witness an accident, you’re supposed to stay on the scene until the police come.

“Jesus, Daphne, what are you—what are you—” Don’t have enough breath to ask myself my own question.

Run.

I keep going, putting on as much speed as possible. I’m drowning in heat and layers. The snow things are sturdy, but they’re expensive. More streamlined. Still thick. I’m all wrapped up in how much Emerson loves me. How will I ever explain it to him if I die of heat stroke in these woods?

That’s not going to happen. Of course it isn’t. I only feel like I’m up in flames.

Someone shouts my name.

Daphne.

The sharp branches on the trees chop up the sound. It makes the voice unrecognizable. It makes my heart shudder and die. Someone’s coming for me. Maybe they’re all coming for me. And I’m thundering through branches and snow like a wounded animal.

Keep going.

Daphne.

I can’t trust it. I know better than to trust it. I saw Emerson running toward me from the beach, but I don’t know what he did afterward.

It would be bad for him out here. It would hurt him to come for me. I don’t want him to be hurt.

The sound of my name fills me with fresh, pounding fear.

It’s not enough.

There’s a limit to what I can do. My ankle hurts, and my knee, and my wrists. My lungs are shrinking. I walked a lot when I lived in the city and had on-and-off gym memberships a few times, but treadmills never interested me. I spend most of my time painting. And now it’s coming back to bite me.

At least—I think it is. I start to feel defeated and another surge of energy comes. Am I supposed to give up just because I’m tired? Just because it hurts to move like this? Just because I could be sick from how hot I am inside all these clothes?

No.

I go outside my body, outside the heat and hurt and fear. I feel my feet hitting the ground in my winter boots. Branches sketch new scratches on my face. My hands sweat. None of it touches me. I could run forever.

Except.

The woods will end. I’ll reach the ocean. I’ll get to safe haven and then—

And then—

The beach is an open, exposed space. I’ll be obvious on the sand. Leaving even more footprints. I don’t know how many miles we drove before I got out. I have no idea how many rocky outcroppings are between me and Emerson’s beach. The salt water will sting my cuts. It might seep into all my clothes and suck me under.

Don’t think about that now.

Those are just the things that will happen before I can get back to Emerson. We can have forever together, if I hold on. Forever means surviving. It means running.

Daphne.

I put on a burst of speed. A branch like a razor runs over my cheekbone. The woods close in, and just as suddenly, they open up.

One second the branches are a closed door and the next I’m out in the open.

There’s no more ground.

I see the edge as a faint line in the dark and gasp. No.

My feet stop inches from the edge of a cliff.

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