Page 37 of Seal My Fate

I think of him, and somehow, the terror eases its icy grip on my heart. He’ll be coming for me. I know he will.

The only question is, will he make it down here in time?

We wait.

There’s nothing else but stay huddled there together, under the cover of darkness, listening for danger in the dark woods. I shift into a seated position, starting to feel the chill of the damp, cold night. I fled the house in jeans and a comfy hooded sweatshirt, but they’re no match for the weather, so we shift in closer to share body heat. Wren is wearing an old-fashioned wristwatch, and we watch the minutes tick past, infinitely slow.

I want to be anywhere in the world but here. That tropical beach that Saint dreamed about, lazing in the shade by the shallows, warm and dry, and not in fear for my life… I drift off into a daydream, until Wren tugs my sleeve.

“It’s been an hour,” she whispers. “I don’t think he’s coming back.”

I take a deep breath, thinking fast. We can’t stay here forever, and if we’re going to make a break for it, we should do it before the cold and tiredness makes us too sluggish. If we can make it to the village, or somewhere with a phone…

“How’s your ankle?” I ask her softly. “Do you think you can walk?”

Wren extends it, massaging slowly. “It’s not broken, just sprained. Now that it’s rested… I think I can manage.”

Slowly, I craw back out of the bushes. It’s terrifying, and part of me is expecting to find the gunman waiting for us, ready to strike, but when I emerge into the clearing, there’s nobody there.

“It’s safe,” I whisper to Wren. “Come on.”

She crawls out after me, and slowly gets to her feet, testing her ankle. “It’s a little better,” she says, face lightening with relief. “I can walk.”

Thank God.

“The man with the gun went that way,” I say, checking out the woods around us. “And the house is back there…”

“Then let’s go this way,” Wren says, pointing in a different direction. “Maybe we’ll strike it lucky and find the main road. God, what I wouldn’t give for a compass right now…”

“Or a map. Or some water. Or a cellphone,” I agree. “There’s a reason I never got my outward-bound badge in the Girl Scouts.”

“Really? I thought it was because you were too scared to make it through the overnight camping, freaked out over a racoon, and had to call mom to pick you up.” Wren gives me a smirk of a grin.

She’s pretending not to be scared, we both are.

“At least I tried,” I reply softly, taking her arm to help her balance. “You were too busy cataloging rock types to even glance outside. Nerd.”

“Dork.”

“Idiot.”

We start walking, as fast as Wren can manage on her injured ankle. “I think I see a trail,” she reports, as we move deeper in the trees. “Look.”

She’s right. A bare track is just about visible in the undergrowth, winding through the woods. My heart leaps. “Should we follow it?”

“It has to lead somewhere, right—”

BANG!

A gunshot whistles from behind us, exploding a tree trunk nearby. BANG!

He’s back.

“Run!” Wren screams, grabbing my hand. We bomb down the trail, fleeing as more gunshots follow, and the sound of fast pursuit.Oh God. I gasp in panic, skidding over the wet leaves and tree trunks, clinging to Wren’s hand for dear life. We’re not even trying to be quiet now, all that matters is getting away.

“He’s right behind us!” Wren cries, shooting a terrified glance behind her. Another bullet comes whistling past, as we zig-zag and veer across the trail.

“Up ahead!” I yell, as the trees thin out and I spot the smooth blacktop of the road. “Go! Go!”

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