Page 2 of Entangled

I blink. Then blink again as the cold metal begins to register, almost seeping through my numbness. My sluggish pulse stutters.

I... don’t... want to be shot.

Biting down on my cracked lower lip, I lick at the salty blood on my teeth and nod. It’s wobbly, and it forces the gun into my neck, but it seems to appease him. Before he takes it upon himself to yank me again, I make myself lurch forward, and faster this time.

He pushes ahead of me with a grunt.

I want to live.

The thought presses against my numbness, testing its edges. It’s too soon. I’m not ready to feel it all. Not yet, but...

Ineedto live.

It would be easier to give up—so much easier. It would hurt less, certainly. But survival is in my nature. I’m not sure I could stop clawing for life even if I were the last person clinging to this godforsaken planet. My life is just a checklist of awful people and places and positions I needed to push through.

I am prepared to do anything to live, to thrive. Isurvived.

And I will now too.

I stare at Sam’s wide, brawny back, a spark of something hot catching fire inside me.

Sam is a thug—a brainless, cowardly bully. If I want to live, to give myself any chance at all, then I need to think. It’s the only edge I have. Theone thingthat has kept me alive this long.

I need to outwit a dullard.

Sam hacks a glob of spit into the greenery, and I let the thought fester.

God, the dull vacancy behind his eyes offends me. Itinfuriatesme. This?Him?

How didhecause this much carnage? This petty, unremarkable imbecile who spent twenty minutes clearing out his ears with his little finger. How ishethe one who has me trapped and trussed? How ishethe reason that Lucky and Jaykob?—

No.No. They can’t help me now. Not ever again. I need to save myself.

Whatever it takes.

* * *

“Stop.”

At first, I don’t hear him. I’m too lost in my useless schemes, testing the flex in my purple fingers, wondering how I can run away when I can’t feel my legs. Two days later and, despite my new resolve, my body is worse than ever. At least I’ve managed to stop the carousel in my head. All thoughts of Bristlebrook—ofthem—are banished. The only way I’ve been able to keep them out is by trying to plot a way out of this nightmare.

Barring some kind of godly act of benevolence, I haven’t found one yet.

Sam’s meaty hand grabs the back of my head and shoves me down by my hair so I collapse in a heap. My shocked cry is muffled by another hand slapped over my mouth. Panic spikes, and I struggle, but he has me firmly in his grip. He must be tired too, but the difference in our strength is overwhelming.

“Stop,” he growls again in my ear, low and barely audible.

Leaves crunch nearby, and I do stop then, instinct holding me taut and still as a hunted rabbit. The thought that maybe it’s Dom, or Beau, or Jasper coming to get me flickers, but then is snuffed. Even untrained Jasper wouldn’t make that much noise. And judging by Sam’s reaction, whoever it is, it’s no one he knows.

Should I struggle? Make enough noise for them to discover us here? I’m not sure if a change of captors would help me. Sam has been cruel, and I fear his plans, but he hasn’t tried to touch me. Not yet. Can I trust the kindness of strangers? The only time that has ever worked out for me was with my Bristlebrook men.

Swallowing hard against thoughts of them, I focus on the new men as they push through the trees. This is the problem I need to focus on. MaybethisI can do something about.

The three men are armed and talking to one another in low, serious voices I can’t quite make out. Sam reaches for his gun. I’m not sure how much ammo he has left, but it doesn’t matter. He can’t take on three, and I really hope he won’t try.

Sam’s hand tightens in warning on my mouth, and I nod, just slightly. I have a better chance at getting away from one exhausted, injured man than I do three healthy ones. Not that the odds in either situation are exactly in my favor.

As they pass by us, I catch snippets.

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