Chapter Fifty-One
Fear surged as Isla broke into a hobbled run. The underbrush clawed at her legs, snagging her jeans, pulling at the laces on her boots, untying one. Sharp branches slashed at her arms as she ran with no idea where she was going and only one thought. Get away.
A crack sounded through the air, and a piece of tree trunk just ahead of her exploded into sharp splinters. She ducked, covering her head, a yelp coming from her.
Was it Bennett, playing a cruel game, trying to do his mother’s bidding and scare Isla off?
Or was there someone else she’d inadvertently offended, something she was very good at—another ping whizzed by—and who wanted her gone by any means necessary?
Had it come to that, all to keep her from uncovering what had happened to Eden?
The toe of her boot caught on a root and sent her sprawling into a thicket. She landed hard. More pain gripped her, but she scrambled to her feet, hearing crushed leaves and underbrush behind her. They were chasing her now, and getting close.
She refused to give up as a new emotion flooded in.
Anger. Could she have wandered into a hunting zone, and someone was mistaking her for game?
Or maybe not mistaking her but hunting something else, and she was getting in the way?
But couldn’t they see the bright vest she was wearing, the kind they were all supposed to wear so others could tell them apart from the wildlife and foliage? What if it was Jackson?
She heard the unmistakable click of a rifle chambering. The sound reverberated through the woods and directly into her ears. She ducked instinctively before the shot rang out, her breath huffing out in shallow gasps. This shot was different from the other two.
She saw more light through the line of trees and ran for it.
She burst through the line of trees into a grassy clearing.
Her ankle throbbed. She turned in circles, desperate for signs of safety and cover before they shot again.
Surely in a clearing she was easier prey.
The running feet in the woods behind her sounded closer, like they were going to burst through as well.
She’d have to make her stand here. Running would do nothing for her now.
Isla dropped to her knees behind a jutting boulder amid the nearly waist-high grass swaying in the wind.
She smashed up against it, trying to make herself small.
Her hands groped around the sunburned grass for something she could use to launch at the person when they broke through the line.
She grabbed the first thing she came into contact with.
A jagged rock, splintered off from the boulder she was using as her cover.
She steadied herself, raising her hand, preparing to brain the bastard as they came up on her.
She didn’t want to give away where she was.
She’d wait until they came to her. She heard them as they broke through the tree line, coming closer.
She braced herself, tightened the grip she had on the rock in her hand.
She saw the long barrel of the gun first as it appeared just above her, casting its thin, wavering shadow over her and the ground before her.
More of the weapon came into view, then a booted foot, a leg, part of the upper torso and head. It was enough. She leaped up.
“You motherfucker!” she yelled. It was primal. Full of rage and insult at being chased and terrified. Her hand snapped back to smash down the rock before the figure had a chance to swing the gun around on her.
“Isla!” the figure said, his face coming into view just as the rock was about to connect with the side of his head.
She breathed out, her arm freezing in midair, inches from his face. “Myles?”
He was lowering his weapon, but she was still frozen in time. His face had paled, his breathing as labored as hers.
“How’d you get out here?” He looked at her fist and the rock in it. “What—what are you doing?”
His startled expression, equal parts relief, anger, and confusion, disengaged her, and she brought her arm down. It fell to her side like deadweight, the rock still wedged firmly in her hand.
“What are you doing?” he asked again as she stepped away from him, so very confused. She looked at him, frowning, trying to differentiate someone she knew, and who was maybe safe, from the person who’d been chasing her.
He asked, “Where have you been?” Slowly, he placed his weapon on the ground, then came back up just as deliberately, trying not to scare her more than she already was.
Isla tried to clear her confusion, to pick reality from imagination and discern if she was safe or still in danger.
“Someone . . .” She hyperventilated, her knees going weak.
She used her free hand to steady herself, refusing help from Myles when he reached for her rock hand. “Someone was chasing me.”
“What?”
“I swear. They—there were shots. In the woods. Got lost and . . . chasing me,” she choked out. She finally looked at him. “I thought . . .” Nothing was coming out right. “Where were you?”
And then she buckled, with Myles catching her just in time as more of the group broke through the cluster of trees, heading toward them.
He steadied her against the boulder. She was fully hyperventilating now, leaning between her knees to catch her first real, true breath.
Myles placed his hand on her back, rubbing ever so softly as she refused to let herself cry. She would focus on breathing.
“You’re safe now,” he said, though his eyes darted toward the tree line and their group, scanning for signs of the danger she spoke of. “I’m here.”
The sounds of the group made Isla flinch.
It was the rest of the party, but Isla still didn’t want them to see her.
Now that she was safe and the confusion was clearing, embarrassment closely chased it and was taking her over.
When Bennett saw her. God, when Victor. What Victor hated the most was weakness, and then she’d have lost everything she’d already worked so hard for.
The majority of the group joined them, the rest trickling behind. Bennett, Victor, Dixon, and Jackson reached them first, weapons with them, their faces grim.
Bennett exploded at her, “What the hell, Isla? You left the group and had us looking everywhere.”
“She’s fine,” Myles said tersely, sending his younger brother a warning glare, a reminder of what Bennett should have asked first.
Bennett faltered. “I mean . . . are you?” He looked abashed.
“What happened to you?” Victor asked as he, along with Myles, reached down to help Isla up. Actual worry lined his face as he assessed her appearance. Or perhaps he was calculating just how much this incident was going to cost him. Isla couldn’t help thinking the worst.
She held up her hand to wave them off and give herself space. “I’m okay,” she managed. She looked up at Bennett. “I didn’t wander off,” she said pointedly. “I fell down a hill or something and got separated and lost my bearings. I called for help, but I guess everyone had moved on without me.”
The men exchanged uneasy glances.
“And someone was chasing me. They chased me all the way out here.”
The men grew more uneasy, shifting their feet.
Jackson said, “We heard shots. We thought it was another group out here. Maybe you got turned around and entered the zone, and they mistook you for game or just didn’t see you?”
Victor asked, “You think poachers?”
Isla took in her very bright vest, her fire replacing the embarrassment. “Orange stands out against green,” she retorted. “You think maybe they’re color blind?” It probably wasn’t sensitive to say, but at this current moment, Isla didn’t give a fuck.
“What’s with that?” Bennett asked, pointing to the rock she didn’t realize was still in her tight grip. “You were planning to fight bullets with rocks?”
Jackson said, “Cool it, Bennett. For once.”
“It wasn’t random. They were definitely following me. A shot whizzed right by my head and hit a tree ahead of me.”
Dixon had his hand on his hip, completing a revolution as Isla had done when she’d first run out.
“I didn’t think there were any other groups out here.
I checked. And I can’t believe they’d be taking shots without confirming it is game they’re shooting at.
If that was the case here, we’ll need to do something about it. ”
Bennett rolled his eyes and sauntered off to join his friends, where they proceeded to shoot looks at her, clearly talking about how she’d ruined their hunting fun.
Victor said grimly, following Dixon’s gaze, “Then let’s go check it out.”
Half the group followed Isla back in, with Bennett begrudgingly following them after telling his friends to begin their trek to their rally point, where they’d head back down to the forest warden’s station and their all-terrain vehicles.
Isla steeled herself for reentry into the forest. With a clearer mind, she was able to backtrack to where she’d been.
A not-so-keen hunter’s eyes could tell where she’d been, thrashing around and marking a clear path.
“Your ankle,” Myles commented, his concern evident, when Isla began to walk and he saw how hard she limped, favoring her right leg. He reached to take her arm, offering to have her lean on him.
Again she waved him off, not wanting to seem any more of a damsel in distress than she already appeared.
She didn’t even want to think about what she looked like after her ordeal.
At least she hadn’t cried in front of them.
That might be reserved for later, when she was alone in the staff housing.
And she’d need to make it back to the hotel room, where she kept her map.
She pointed to the tree that had been struck by the bullet, shuddering at how the bullet had dug in, showing the light tan of the tree’s inner bark. It had been so close.
Dixon said, “This is definitely not an approved area for hunting. Someone’s made a huge mistake.”
She wanted to say it was more than a mistake. It was intentional. But it was beyond their realm of comprehension because they hadn’t been the prey. It wasn’t them who’d been running for their lives. It had been her. And any one of these people could have been on the other side of that rifle.
They started to move away, continuing through as best Isla could recall, but Myles remained, crouched and staring intently at the ground.
Victor noticed first, turning. “Son, let’s not lose another person, yeah?” Bennett fidgeted at his words.
Myles stood, his gaze remaining fixed on the ground.
“Look at this.” He motioned to a set of prints in the mud.
“These are hers. I can tell because the left foot digs deeper than the right, since she hurt it and was limping. Plus they’re smaller.
” He looked at her, and she looked back, biting her bottom lip. “But there is another set.”
Jackson asked, “Maybe one of ours?”
Myles shook his head. “Can’t be,” he said firmly. “We didn’t come through this way, remember? This set was definitely tracking her. It follows her path directly.”
This time Isla couldn’t hold back her shudder. She’d known someone was chasing her, terrorizing her. But doubling back and seeing the evidence let the fear creep back in. She only needed to make it a little longer; then she’d be alone.
“And look.” Myles gestured to a fainter set of prints nearby, not aligned with hers and whoever was following her. “A third set. Someone else was here. Tracking them.”
“What?” Bennett asked seriously, forgetting he had thought this was all bullshit and was pissed at her for messing up their afternoon before he’d caught anything. “What do you mean a third set?”
A chill ran through her. Goose bumps broke out all over her body, and cold sweat dotted her forehead. Instantly she remembered. “The third shot!”
Victor had joined Myles. He looked at Isla, then at Dixon, his concern deepening. “What was that?”
“There were three shots total. The first two were from one gun,” she said.
“That’s how I knew they were following me.
Because one shot can be an accident. I called out.
They would have heard me yell. But instead they took another shot.
But then there was a third shot, and this one sounded different from the other two. Like it came from a different gun.”
“Two sets of prints,” Victor repeated, his voice low, as if he was simmering at the thought.
“Yeah,” Myles said. “One chasing her, and the other . . .” He glanced at Isla, catching her in the snare of his eyes.
She did a double take. Gone were the days of his morose and indifferent disdain for her.
There was something else he was saying in his glance that she didn’t dare puzzle out yet, because if she read him wrong and that wasn’t care and concern she was seeing in his eyes, she realized she’d be crushed.
She gripped the rock tighter, knowing she would keep it forever.
They headed back to the meeting point, Bennett grumbling that he wanted to leave and the place was giving him the creeps.
Isla noted the flicker of unease in his eyes.
The way, when he met up with Danny and Roger, they huddled, throwing her furtive looks.
Danny gesticulated wildly, then stalked away.
Today might have been their warning to stay out of their business and leave, which meant she had to be on the right track.