Page 43 of Entangled

A bullet whizzes past my ear with so much speed and force I feel the rush of air. I smash through clawing brush and battering leaves, but I can’t move easily, or fast, with Madison’s arm slung around my shoulder.

She’s slowing me down.

There’s another crack of gunfire, and Madison throws us to the side as terror, fear, and the edges of blind panic start to black my vision. She urges me forward in a new direction, but I’m supporting half her weight.

Run, run, run.

It’s what I do best. Run and hide. I’m not made to be a hero. I’m not sneaking about in the shadows now. It’s midmorning, and I might as well be under a spotlight.

“Give it up, whores.” A voice chases us. “Only difference now is if we fuck you before or after you die.”

I bite back a sob, déjà vu hitting me in a wave. Of similar trees, and similar men. Maybe the same men. It wasn’t so long ago.

But I can’t count on a sexy trio of men saving me this time.

This time, I can’t evenrun.

Crack.

The earth sprays in front of me, and I jerk back, almost throwing Madison on her ass. She grabs my arm, yanking me behind a tree, breathing hard.

I can’t do this. I can’t stay. I need to leave her.

“You need to leave me,” Madison says urgently, echoing my hateful, guilty thoughts. She twists her head to look around the tree, then back at me. “Go. I’m only slowing you down. I can hold them off.”

Yes, part of me screams—the part of me that survived for four years in these godforsaken woods.

“No!” is what comes out of my mouth. My heart catches in my throat, stunned, overwhelmed. “I can’t?—”

You can! Go, go, go. Leave her behind!

Madison shoves me as another bullet slams the tree we’re hiding behind with a deafening crash, and I stagger back.

Staggeraway.

Her arm falls away from me, and I’m once again cold. Alone.Alive. I’m surviving. That’s what I do. That’s all that matters. Isn’t it?

Self-hatred cripples me. Can I do this? Can I really leave her to die to save myself?

My heel crunches into the leaves behind me.

I meet her eyes, and they’re filled with knowing. And somehow—incredibly—not resentful. In her hard, determined face, they’re soft with understanding.

“Go,” she whispers. Her stormy gray eyes are damp. “It’s okay. It really is.”

I step back again. And again.

Shame floods me, and tears spill over. I can’t look at her now. I don’t think I’ll be able to look atmyselfafter this.

I take another step away, turning to run, and thick, black self-loathing oozes from my pores.

But I see them as I turn—a man, tunneling through the trees toward us. There are two more, approaching from Madison’s side. And more movement behind them, too.

And they see us.

It’s too late.

They break into a run, and I cast around for something, anything, to defend myself. My scalp shivers with goosebumps. Madison grabs a solid, heavy rock, and I pick up a fallen branch.

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