Page 3 of Wild

With his red face deepening in color as his angry focus intensified on me, he growled, “I said, now that you are nineteen, it is time for you to take your place in society.” My eyes widened with his words. I had never heard anything definitive in regards to his plans for me. I had been trained in etiquette from a young age, and I knew that he had highexpectations for me making an advantageous match in the future, but at nineteen?

I couldn’t contain the gasp that escaped my lips, and it was met with another sharp pinch on the same spot on my thigh and a cleared throat from across the table. Looking from my father to Gerald, I knew I wouldn’t like where this conversation was headed. Gerald looked like the cat that ate the canary, while my father simply glared at me, clearly trying to choose his next words carefully to prevent a show of emotions or what he dismissively called “female hysterics.”

“Annabeth,” he said firmly but cautiously. “It’s time for you to marry and start a family. Gerald and I have been business partners for years. He’s a good man, and he is able to provide you with the life you deserve. Your wedding will be three weeks from now. You have an appointment with Doctor Goldbaum tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. You will not be late.”

Often, I gave in, doing things I didn’t wish to do, for the chance to see pride in my father’s eyes. But this—this was asking too much. Nope, not asking. Demanding. Alessio Russo didn’t ask.

“I absolutely will not be getting married in three weeks!” I shouted, standing up quickly and knocking my chair backwards. The shouting and clatter of wood hitting the marble floor brought Trudy bustling back into the dining room, righting the chair, and scurrying out again before my father’s anger was directed at her. Smart woman.

“You will. It’s been arranged. Three weeks from today you will become Mrs. Gerald Summerville. I will not tolerate anotheroutburst from you, nor will you question your place in this family or your duties. We all make sacrifices, and this will be yours. You’ve known that someday you would be marrying an ally for this family, and your time has finally come.”

Unable to look at my father, I glanced toward my mother and saw her eyes were cast down to the table, refusing to look up. With a quick peek at Gerald, I could tell he was completely on board with my father’s plan. At forty-eight, he’s a few years younger than my father, but he’s still far too old for me.

A shrill yip in the distance brings me back to the present, fear coursing through me. I’m not sure what creatures make that sound, but looking around, I don’t see anything that can be used as a weapon if it comes any closer. I’m currently quite warm sitting on my sun-drenched boulder, but if last night is any indication of how the night will turn, I know I won’t be warm for much longer.

A breeze rustles the dry grass around the base of the boulder, and I immediately tense, fearing the worst. I chuckle at myself, hugging my knees tightly against my stomach, listening to it grumble. I should’ve grabbed some snacks from the vending machine at one of the bus stops along the way, but I foolishly expected I’d be looking at a menu to select my dinner while watching the waves by this time.

Opening my backpack, which holds the sum total of all my worldly possessions, I locate my water bottle, open it, and…nothing. I close it again, same as last time, chuckling wryly at my ridiculous hope. My water ran out yesterday, and it would appear that nothing in this barren wasteland wants to cooperate with my plan to escape.

With a sense of dread, I look up at the sky, wondering where exactly I am—preferably something more specific thanMiddle of Nowhere. I was headed west from Chicago, planning to land in a city on the coast. I figured that in a populated city, I would be harder to find, especially having left all of my identifying and traceable items in my room. I’d have to establish an alias, but that’s a problem for future me.God, GPS would be nice right about now.

I vaguely recall hearing the bus driver make an announcement about South Dakota.Did we get all the way through the state?I can’t remember what state is immediately west of the Dakotas. My finishing school was more concerned with napkin origami and first impressions than geography. What I wouldn’t give right now to have had a normal childhood complete with summer camp that taught me…well, anything useful. Anything at all.

I shift, trying to find a more comfortable position on the boulder, but the movement jostles my ankle, and I can’t help the gasp of pain that escapes my lips. Biting my bottom lip, I taste the tang of blood as I force myself to move again, finally dislodging the small stone that had been pressing into my thigh for far too long.

My throbbing ankle finally wins, forcing me to sit still, waiting impatiently for a miracle that I don’t actually believe will come. Looking around, hoping I’d missed something the first ten times I’d searched, I take my first deep breath of pure, unpolluted air. The earthy scents are unfamiliar but refreshing, and for the first time in my life, I feel a sense of peace.

The sun began its descent a while ago and is now nearly half-obscured by the horizon and throwing beautiful colors into the sky, painting the clouds in contrasting purples and reds.Shadows move as the tall grass dances in the gentle breeze, reminding me of the precariousness of my situation.

I watch as the stars begin to twinkle in the darkening sky, realizing that this may be the end for me. I haven’t had water in more than a day, and as far as I can tell, there’s no food or water around for quite a distance. “Well, at least I don’t have to marry Gerald,” I say, cackling at the ridiculousness of the last couple of days.

Before I made my escape, I’d only ever been out of Chicago once, and I was never out of the sight of at least three bodyguards at all times. Since sneaking out of the house, I’d crossed multiple states and lived to tell the tale—until now.

Sighing at the realization that I can’t sit on this rock all night, I force myself to move toward the edge, determined to make it to the ground and a grassy mattress. I gingerly begin to climb down, careful to put as little pressure on my injured ankle as possible. It protests every movement but supports my weight.

It’s too dark to tell how much farther I have to go, and I’m too afraid to crane my neck and look down. I feel each nook and cranny of the rock as I slowly make my way down. I cry out as my hand slips from the rock. A moment of fear seizes my body before I fall backward, and the world goes dark.

We make our way slowly out of the ranch yard, waiting for the sun to peek over the horizon and light the way out to the range. While I love to ride in the moonlight, I don’t dare risk encountering the predators or other dangers offered by the open range in the dark.

“Let’s go,” I call out when we reach the open land, watching as Twitch surges ahead of Quiver, zigging and zagging through the dry grass in whatever direction his nose takes him. His tail is visible over the top of the grass, giving away his position. I swear he has some kind of hunting dog in his background, though the shelter didn’t even want to hazard a guess as to what else might be lurking in his DNA. All I know is that he’s the best damn dog I could’ve asked for.

Quiver lopes easily over the range, ears forward attentively. The dew on the grass adds a beautiful sheen with the colorful sunrise and an extra chill to the morning. Pulling gently on the reins, Quiver slows to a walk. “Good girl,” I murmur, patting her neck.I estimate we’ve ridden about three miles, mostly at a quick pace, allowing Quiver to work off some of her morning energy.

Pulling up, I ask Quiver to stand, allowing me to take in the scenery and determine where to begin our search for the owner of the tracks. There are several rock structures on this part of the ranch, and coyotes and the occasional larger predator will seek shelter from the elements. Deciding it’s as good a place to start as any, I turn Quiver to the right, intending to head to the furthest outcrop first.

I whip my head around when I hear Twitch’s loud howl, seeing him moving swiftly toward the closest pile of rocks before disappearing completely into the tall grass. Hoping he’s just tracking a small animal but preparing for the worst, I grab my rifle from the scabbard at my knee and prepare to defend my dog. Urging Quiver into a gallop toward Twitch’s location, I hear a whining sound but nothing else.

Before Quiver can even come to a full stop, I’m jumping from the saddle, landing on my feet, and running toward Twitch, ready to lift the rifle to my shoulder. I stop dead in my tracks when I see him pawing at a lump at the base of a boulder.

Moving closer, I see pale skin and immediately recognize the lump as a human, though from this distance I can’t determine the condition. Dread fills me as I near the boulder. It’s not unheard of for people to underestimate the distance and weather out here, wandering, getting lost, and ultimately expiring before they make it back to civilization.

Crouching down beside Twitch, I gently nudge him to the side so I can get closer to the unconscious person crumpled in a heap next to the rock. I gently grasp one thin arm, rolling the body onto its back. Twitch whines nervously beside me. There is no sound from the person, and I don’t see any profound movements of breathing. Even with the sun now up, it’s cold out here, my breath curling in visible tendrils from my nostrils, but nothing comes from the direction of the body beneath me.

Long, dark hair obscures the face, though from the slight build I assume it’s a woman. Removing my leather glove from my left hand, I brush her hair back from her face, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding in. “Fuck me,” I whisper, peering down into the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. Twitch’s nose moves over her beside me.

Still unmoving, I examine what I can see of her, looking for blood or obvious signs of injury. Finding none, I focus on her vital signs. She has a heartbeat, clear but not strong enough for my peace of mind. Her shallow breaths are regular, though not deep enough to make her exhalations visible in the morning chill.

Gently tapping her cheeks on either side and eliciting no response, I decide to take her home with me until she wakes up and I can figure out how to help her. I stand up, knees protesting the movement, and walk to Quiver. I lead the mare over to the unconscious beauty, easily scooping her in my arms.

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