Page 48 of Entangled

I stretch forward, and it pushes me deep, deep into the wire. I try to suck in air, but my throat only catches a deathly rattle. The pressure builds in my head until my face feels stretched, and I’m sure my brain is going to burst inside my skull like an overfilled brain balloon, but I manage to wrap both hands around thatfuckingboot... and I yank it hard.

The man flies backwards, and just as my vision begins to wink out, I hear him fire a single, deadly shot.

Chapter15

Eden

Survival tip #198

Keep your feet.

Someone’s always there to pull

the rug out from under you.

Mateo suddenly falls backwards and, without thinking, I throw myself forward. He fires, and I press my face into the dirt, hands over my head.

When paindoesn’tcleave me apart, I lift up, flipping over so I can see him. He’s dropped the gun between us, and two women are almost entirely covering the body of a struggling man to my left.

I lunge for the gun at the exact moment Mateo does, my heart jackhammering. My fingers close around the metal just as a large man thunders out of the forest, an enormous, bloody blade clutched in both hands. His hair falls to his shoulders, and he’s covered in grime and body matter.

Scrambling back, I fight to lift the gun, not sure where to aim. Mateo claws the earth as he scrambles toward me.

The man behind him blinks as he takes everything in, then he grins and sheaths his sword. Bending down, he picks Mateo up by the back of his shirt and pants, then yanks him against his chest—an echo of the hold Mateo just had me in.

“Sorry, pretty boy, we don’t hurt nice girls. You get a time out,” the man chides.

My gun shakes as I stare at his hands.

Not an enemy. No serpents. Not a Sinner.

The man on the ground lets out a strangled groan as the women atop him holler gleefully.

And I realize he’s in a kit. ARanger’skit.

“No!” I scream, pushing up. I abandon the gun I have no idea how to use. “Get off him!”

Someone storms past me and grabs the woman bent over the man’s head, throwing her to the side, and even though I know it’s not possible, that even a dusting of hope could ruin me right now, I don’t hesitate. I rush in and grab the other one’s hair in a vicious grip.

“Get off!” I yell as I yank her by the hair, dragging her off him.

She swears at me, then kicks out my ankles. I go down hard.

An arrow spits from the trees, and I hear a muffled, “Fuck!”

And I... Iknowthat voice.

My heart crashes against my ribcage as the woman climbs on top of me.

No. It’snotpossible. They’re dead. They’re ash and bones and they’re lying together in the burned-out cavity of Bristlebrook.

“Sir?” I call desperately, a sob caught in my throat.

I twist to try and see. Ineedto see.

The woman on top of me slaps me hard enough that my lip splits again. It’s too much. The men, and the arrows, and the shouting, and the guns. The cacophony is deafening. Movement, dizzying.

With a scream, I crunch up and wrap my hands around the woman’s throat. She overbalances backwards, and I end up on top of her. She’s skinny, with short blonde hair. My fingers dig into her windpipe. I see fear flash into her eyes, and it feels good. It feelsso goodnot to be the victim.

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