Page 7 of Ensnared

Ittakes me a moment to realize he’s talking to me.

“It’sEden,”Imutter, butIquickly do as he says.Girl?I’mtwenty-seven.Ihaven’t been agirlfor years.It’seven worse than ‘sweetheart.’

Beausettles behind a smaller rock, swinging his gun around and into position.Ipeek around to scan the trees.Nothing.Isearch the upper branches but can’t seeLucky.Ihope that means they won’t be able to either.He’sstopped whistling, andImiss the jaunty tune.Asridiculous as it was to hear amid the gunshots and bellowed insults, it made me feel oddly safe.AllIcan hear now is the nearing crash of my hunters, their shouts growing louder and louder.

Myanxiety kicks up a notch.Icrane my neck around the rock as if a new angle might give me x-ray vision.Everythingin me tells me to run.

“Whatpart of ‘don’t move’ don’t you understand?”

Ipull back with a scowl, then wishIhadn’t obeyed quite so fast.Ambereyes, molten with ire, glare at me.Dom’sskin is dusky brown and stubble lines his strong jaw.Hereally is a beautiful man.Orhe would be if he weren’t so cranky.

Thecrashing sounds stop.

“Comeon, bitch.Enoughgames,” a loud, nasal voice shouts from below.

Anotherjoins it. “Comeout, come out, wherever you are!”

Iswallow hard, hand seeking my knife.Morehoots and jeers follow.Iknow what will happen if they catch me.I’veseen the leftovers of others caught by men like this, and the images still haunt my nightmares.Unfortunately, most people who survived the lawless years after the strikes aren’t the sortIwant to be caught by—which is whyIhid myself away in my cave for four years.Awoman alone is far too vulnerable.

Frommy crouch,Ilook atDom.Hisfocus is entirely on the clearing in front of him.Whyisn’t he doing anything?

“Iknow you cunts like to play hard to get, but this is getting ridiculous!” the first voice calls again.Scatteredlaughter sounds from below. “You’llpay for our trouble, slut.You’llget it in every fucking hole.”

Dom’slip tenses, almost a curl, his brows lowering with unholy rage.

Itremble.Iwilluse my knife.Anythingis better than being taken by them.Irub the hilt between my fingers in a silent, fervent promise.

“Coveryour ears,”Dommutters.

Iignore him.I’veheard worse from these men before.Itisn’t theirwordsthat puts the queasy churn in my insides.Thisis hopeless.Ridiculous.Thereare too many of them, they will—

Crack!

Thesound of the gunshot beside me is deafening.Thena flurry of them follows.Myears ring.Iswing my head around, then push my slipping glasses back into position.Dom’sbroad body shifts rhythmically as he fires, butIcan’t hear anything.Releasingmy knife,Ifinally slap my hands over my ears.

Toolate.

Theringing reverberates in my skull until even the gunshots are drowned out.

Myeyes travel toBeau, who looks grim but calm as he fires.Bitingmy lip,Iclose my eyes and try to focus on my breathing.

In.

Out.

Everythingwill be fine.

In.

Out.

Iwilluse my knife if it comes to it.

In.

Out.

Onequick, deep slice across my throat will do it.

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