Page 1 of Entangled

Chapter1

Eden

Survival tip #136

Loneliness won’t kill you.

Violent men with guns? They might.

Lucky. Jaykob. Lucky. Jaykob.

“Move it!” Sweat oozes into Sam’s silver brows as he glares at me.

He yanks the rope chaining my waist and bloody wrists, and I stumble hard. I manage to keep on my feet, but my legs quiver under me, hot and gelatinous. Both of us stink, reeking of sour, anxious sweat and days-old soot.

Twigs scratch my hair and face as I stagger on, but I’m far too tired to avoid them. Yesterday, finally, my lower half slipped into a sweet, shaky numbness. I know the burst blisters on my heels and toes are rubbing bloody against my shoes and that muscle spasms must be arcing through my calves, but, blessedly, I feel none of it.

I hope my wrists go next. They’re raw and swollen and feverish, my fingers stiff and blue-tinged. If I try to flex them, my arms throb and fresh blood seeps around the coarse rope, picking up shards of dried blood crystals. At least the pain distracts me from my thoughts.

Lucky. Jaykob. Lucky. Jaykob.

The first two days, while adrenaline still ran high, I tortured myself with my memories. Jaykob’s barn engulfed in flame. Lucky’s body jerking as he was peppered with bullets. Beau disappearing into the woods. Jasper trapped behind the truck. Dom’s fear. A kaleidoscope of emotional lashes.

My mind is too foggy and vacant to bring them into focus anymore, but it doesn’t matter. The names are enough to cut.

Lucky and Jaykob are dead.

Dead to me. Dead to the world. Dead and gone.

Dead, dead, dead.

The new word joins their names, circling my mind in a lurid carousel.

Lucky. Jaykob. Dead. Lucky. Jaykob. Dead.

I wonder about the others too, of course. But no matter how I turn through the details, not a single one gives me hope. I’m not prone to optimism, and the way I see it, there are only two options—either Dom, Beau, and Jasper are unable to come after me... or they’re unwilling. It has been four days, after all. If a rescue were in the cards, it would have happened by now.

I’m not even sure theywouldcome for me. I wasn’t with them for long, after all. For all that my silly, inexperienced heart was growing dizzy and drunk with their touches and attention, I have no idea where I stand with them. Not really. And they’ve lost so much already—Lucky. Jaykob. Dead—I can understand them not wanting to take any more risks.

And that’s if they survived.

I’m not ready to add their names to my carousel just yet, but, in any case, I can’t count on a sexy trio of soldiers saving me a second time.

This time, I’m on my own.

At least, like my feet, my heart has grown numb. There’s no lump in my throat. No tears chill my cheeks in the bitter air. I’m not even afraid, though the possibilities of what Sam has planned for meshouldbe enough to make me sick.

I’ve wondered before how much I could take. When it would all become too much. Too heavy, too lonely, too sad. I wonder now if that’s what’s happened—if my mind has fled from a body finally too battered and overworked to house it safely. Or maybe it’s just that my poor heart was torn from my chest, bloody and still beating, when I saw the end of Bristlebrook, and I just didn’t realize it at the time. Maybe this is just what living with an open wound is like, and all my pain and grief and fear are just spilling out of this hole in my chest and that’s why I can’tfeelanything.

A hand cracks hot and hard across my cheek, the force of it whipping my head to the side. I catch myself on a tree, gagging. Something thick and metallic pools between my teeth, and when I brush my hand over my mouth, it comes away red.

Okay.

I feltthat.

Sam grabs my shoulders, yanking me off the tree, and shakes me.

“What iswrongwith you? I will kill you. Do you understand that?” He unholsters his gun and shoves the barrel under my chin. I force myself to focus on him. Sweat makes tracks in the dirt on his tanned face. “You stop again, and I’ll shoot you in your stupid face.”

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