Mated Minotaur (Mated Myths #3)

1. Katie

Katie

There are certain points in our lives that have us sit back and re-evaluate the choices that lead us to each pivotal moment.

Sometimes they seem inevitable, and no matter which way you look at it or imagine the different scenarios, the result turns out the same.

For most people, that decision usually isn’t centered around shooting their abusive ex, going on the run, and facing down one of his goons who has you cornered in the public library. But here I am.

I thought I would find respite within the warm and inviting library walls, but instead, I find myself on the run. Again. How Greg’s goon tracked me down, I have no idea, but I’m not about to hang around and find out.

He utters a string of curses as the librarian pushes her returns trolley into him, and I use the distraction to hightail it out of there. I just wish I could’ve seen the look on his face. Thank sweet baby Jesus for the librarian who recognized a girl in need. She might be my hero.

I don’t waste a second, ducking out through the worn timber doors and heading into the park attached to the library, hoping the trees will obscure me long enough to get to the other side.

I pull the hood of my jacket lower over my eyes as the afternoon chill of fall sends a shiver down my spine, falling into a jog when I catch sight of a bus pulling up at the closest stop.

Breathless, I manage to jump aboard at the last moment, the doors snapping closed behind me.

I didn’t have time to check where it was headed; as long as it’s anywhere but here, that’s fine with me.

Tension rides me as I find a seat near the back and watch the high rises of the city slide past in a blur.

I only let myself relax when I eventually make it to the outskirts of the city without noticing anybody following me.

I jump off the bus, stuffing my hands into my pockets to keep them warm.

The gray concrete landscape is depressing, and the lack of people around does nothing to ease my paranoia.

I check over my shoulder before heading into the restroom attached to the exterior of a gas station.

Ignoring the shit-stained toilet, I splash my face with cold water.

I squeeze my shaky hands into fists, willing them to stop, before slapping the edge of the porcelain basin. That was really fucking close.

A sinking pit of dread opens in my stomach when I exit the filthy gas station bathroom to find that very same man waiting for me, leaning against the brick wall outside the door with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“You cannot outrun Fate, girly.” He takes a drag, blowing a smoke ring in my face.

I stifle a cough, my eyes darting around the parking lot, quickly assessing my surroundings and if anyone might come to the assistance of a girl being harassed by a menacing-looking man, and find it deserted.

Typical. Any hope I have of a good samaritan coming to save the day deflates like a popped balloon.

It’s a good thing I’ve learned a lot about how to save myself since I shot Greg.

Going on the run and living on the streets will do that for a girl. Without hesitation, I run—

Straight into the arms of another man who rounds the corner of the building, his arms already outstretched and waiting to catch me, like he knew exactly where I was going to be at that moment.

I struggle and screech as strong arms band around my body, trapping my own at my sides.

I kick and buck and scream, making as much noise as possible, hoping to draw any attention.

Throwing my head back, I smack the man in the face with the back of my skull.

Pain bands around my head, but it’s enough for him to let me go, cradling his bloody nose.

“Lachesis! She—she headbutted me!” The wounded man stomps his foot on the cement. If I wasn’t scared for my life, I would find it comical.

The first man—Lachesis—sighs, dropping his cigarette and stomping it out beneath his boot before entering the metaphorical ring.

I back up, keeping both of them in my sight as they cage me against the building.

With not many options available to me, I reach for my last resort.

Sliding my hand into my pocket, I pull out a small red pocketknife, flicking the blade open and wielding it in front of myself.

“Stay back!” I wave my arm wildly, leaping forward and back to swipe at the injured one, who screeches, bringing his arms up to shield his face. It leaves me with a small opening, and I take it, bolting for the street.

Lachesis curses, and pounding footsteps on the pavement let me know he’s on my tail. I can’t help but throw a quick glance over my shoulder.

“Why do they always run?” the injured one whines, following up the rear.

Panting, I turn my eyes back to the path. There’s no way I’m going to be able to outrun them. Their longer stride eats the distance between us in half the time it takes me to create it. I won’t go down without a fight, though. I got free from Greg, and I’m never going back.

A beat-up-looking camper van turns into the street. Hope blooms at the thought that someone might help me. I run in its direction, waving my arms above my head.

“Help! Please stop!”

Sheer relief fills me when it slows to a stop, idling by the curb as I run up to the passenger side door, shoving my knife back in my pocket. The driver leans over to wind the window down.

“Please, you have to help me!” I say between pants. “These men are chasing me.”

The elderly woman behind the wheel looks past me, seeing the two men running down the sidewalk toward us. Her brow furrows, and she nods to herself.

“Get in, girly.” Her voice is no more than a rasp, as if she’s smoked a pack of cigarettes a day for her entire life. I don’t hesitate, swinging the door open and jumping in, slamming the lock down behind me, right as the two men reach us.

The camper van is old. A vintage orange curtain separates the front cabin from the back, and I have to manually wind the window up as they bang against the door and try to reach inside.

I scream, swatting at their hands as I try to get the window closed, jamming the injured one’s fingers at the top when he doesn’t pull them out fast enough. He howls, yanking them free, and I finish the job, blocking out the noise as the window finally shuts.

I fall back into my seat with a sigh, my chest pounding from the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“Thanks.” I brush my bangs off my sweaty forehead, giving the old lady a shaky smile.

“It is lucky Fate had me show up when I did, girly,” she croaks with a toothless smile.

My blood runs cold. What an odd choice of words. I recall what Lachesis said about how I couldn’t outrun Fate. He called me girly, too.

“Um, you know what, I think I’ve made a mistake.” My voice shakes.

“It is too late, Katie.” She tips her head back and cackles.

How does she know my name? I go to unlock the door, unease crawling up my neck.

I’d rather take my chances out there than here.

I reach for the handle and realize it’s missing from the inside of the door.

Panic spikes, my head whipping around for anything that might help me get out of here.

I hear the rear passenger door slide open on a click.

Tears well in my eyes as my throat chokes up in fear.

“Please, no,” I whisper. Please don’t take me back to Greg, I silently pray.

The orange curtain parts behind me, and cold, skeletal hands wrap around my face, pressing a sweet-smelling cloth to my nose, muffling my screams.