Chapter Sixteen
He was going to die here.
The steady drip, drip, drip of his wound leaking blood had slowed.
Whether that meant the injury was finally clotting or he was running out of blood, Rome didn’t know.
His head pulsed with pressure as though he’d resurfaced too fast after a solo dive, his movements not his own.
Chills skittered across his skin beneath his blood-soaked clothing.
The temperature had dropped with the setting sun, but there was still enough light to determine where he’d ended up.
The rope had been bait. A shiny lure to draw him in.
And the snare… Well, it’d done its job. Under normal circumstances Rome would’ve cut through it and gotten himself out of this predicament in an instant, but these weren’t normal circumstances.
Then again, bleeding out while Lettie was somewhere in these woods alone didn’t sound like a great option either.
His head swam despite not being able to move for the past hour or so.
He’d chalk that up to the blood loss and the fact he’d sacrificed a good part of his nutrient-dense food to keep Lettie alive the past two days.
He could only hope that effort hadn’t been in vain.
That she’d remembered everything he’d tried teaching her over the years.
That she got somewhere safe. At this rate, it would be too late for him.
She was what mattered, and if that meant acting as bait for the man who’d attacked them, Rome would gladly put himself at risk.
But if she hadn’t gotten safe…
If she was still out there…
He surveyed the snare around his ankle for the hundredth time.
The line had cut off his circulation, and if he didn’t loosen it or get free, he’d lose use of the limb altogether, but no amount of shifting and pulling had done a damn bit of good.
The muscles in his torso had long fatigued to the point he couldn’t roll himself up again.
He’d used all of his reserves, but that had been the point.
Right? A good hunter allowed their prey to tire themselves out before sweeping in for the final kill. Work smarter, not harder and all that.
And he’d fallen straight into this trap without a second thought.
For Lettie. But survival was in his blood.
It’d forged him into the man he was today.
Allowed him to go after the things he didn’t think he’d ever have after his uncle had taken that bullet during their last hunt.
A job he was good at. A home. A wife. Things worth fighting for.
No matter how many obstacles got in his way, no matter how many times Lettie’s parents tried to get him to walk away, to protect their only child from a worthless, family-less man like him.
The fight had been worth it. She had been worth it.
That orphaned boy whose parents had abandoned him on his uncle’s doorstep, who’d lost the only man who’d ever cared about him and was afraid of Lettie walking out on him too had demanded he serve those damn divorce papers.
To leave her before she got the chance to leave him.
And it’d worked. He’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted.
What he thought he’d wanted. Except giving up on her had altered something in him he couldn’t seem to get back.
The thirst he’d worked so hard to quench after leaving Montana—the support system he craved—returned full force the night he’d moved out.
He’d spent his entire life trying to replace the loss he’d experienced, only to throw away the one person who’d made him feel whole.
But he couldn’t be that scared kid out here.
He had to be a hunter to get them out of this alive.
Blood crusted along his neck, beneath his ear and into his hair.
It cracked as he tilted his head upward, toward his foot still caught in the snare.
There was no point in removing his boot to increase the slack of the line.
It would only close around him again. No.
He’d have to cut through it if he wanted out of here.
Which meant getting to the knife in his ankle holster.
Rome relaxed, stretching his abdominal muscles past their natural stasis. Cramps shot through his sides as he took in as much air as possible. One deep inhale. Two.
Then he shot upward. Explosions of white danced across his vision as the pain in his shoulder crested. The force of it knocked all that pent up air in his lungs free, and he lost his momentum, fingers merely brushing the handle of the blade stashed in his boot.
Collapsing back, he groaned, slapping a hand over the wound.
The resulting pinch was nothing compared to the agony of trying to get upright, but it kept him conscious.
He couldn’t afford to slip back into the darkness.
Not with Lettie out there in the hands of a monster.
But he didn’t have a whole lot more chances to get this right, either.
He’d lost a lot of blood since the clearing.
The effects of which would hit him any minute now based on the tingling in his legs.
His heart was having a hard time keeping the blood flowing, and the longer he struggled to get free, the more likely he’d go into shock.
It was now or never.
Sucking in another deep breath, Rome held it.
And forced himself upright. The muscles in his abdominals howled in protest. His hand shook as he reached for the blade’s handle.
His middle fingernail latched onto the rough coating and withdrew the serrated knife a few centimeters.
Air pressurized in his chest, bled into his face.
He couldn’t hold this position much longer, but one wrong move and he’d withdraw the weapon too quickly and lose it on the ground.
He notched his middle finger higher, digging in with the last of his energy reserves. The tingling spread into his midsection. He was going to pass out soon. The corners of his vision were already darker, tunneling closer than a few seconds ago.
The blade dropped free of the holster.
Rome caught it in his palm. Just in time.
Falling backward, he tried to breathe through the rush of sensation flooding through his head.
His vision went completely dark, but he held onto some kind of consciousness.
One breath. Two. He tightened his hold around the cool metal, willing it to keep him connected to his body.
And his vision cleared, a little more with each passing second.
Hell. Now he had to do it all over again to reach the snare. Landing would hurt, too. But for Lettie, he’d put himself in a thousand lethal situations just to make sure she made it out okay. Rome didn’t give himself the chance to hesitate this time. He sucked in a quick breath and vaulted upright.
The blade sliced through the snare.
And then he was falling.
He slammed into the ground. His back took the brunt of the impact with his injured shoulder snapping back.
The scream he couldn’t contain exploded through the trees, and all but his pounding pulse went quiet.
Rolling onto his side, he gripped the blade close as the pain receded in slow waves.
Only to return a fraction of a second later.
It was never-ending and gut-wrenching to the point he lost what little food he’d managed to eat in the past few hours.
The crossbow arrow had torn through layers of tendon, skin and muscle.
There was no way the arm would do him any good out here, but it wouldn’t stop him from finding Lettie either.
Struggling to stand, Rome stumbled to where he’d found the rope.
The killer had been here. Had most likely camped here based off the protection of the tree against the elements and the trap he’d set to protect it.
No sign of supplies, but the imprint of tracks in the damp soil told him someone had been here in the past couple of hours.
Two someones.
Rome collapsed to his knees, trying to force his vision to adjust to the waning sunlight coming through the trees. The second pair of tracks. He recognized that tread, had memorized it when he’d removed her boots to care for her blisters. “Lettie.”
She’d been here. Scanning the surrounding brush and dirt, he picked up another set of her footprints. Then another. Shoving to stand, he followed the trail. The tracks were deeper a dozen feet out from the campsite. She’d put all her weight into her toes. From running.
A humorless laugh erupted from his chest. She’d fought back.
But had she gotten away? There was only way to find out.
Rome pinpointed the next set of tracks, noting the larger set following, and forced one foot in front of the other.
His head swam from…so many things, but he wouldn’t give up on her. Not again. “Please be alive.”
He didn’t have anyone else, and the idea of Lettie’s starlike brightness being snuffed out only pushed him harder.
She’d only meant to get him through math and science as his tutor in college, but over the course of years, she’d somehow become a major installation in his life.
One he’d tried to live without, but that distance had only made things worse.
As though he’d left the source of light in his life back in that house.
He’d gotten glimpses of it though. These past two days. And he wanted more.
“I’m coming, sweet one.” He picked up the pace, his blade hot in his good hand.
Her tracks were deep enough now, he could follow them easily enough, even with the dying daylight.
The second set he had no trouble following either, and Rome tried to prepare himself for what he might find—who he might find—at the end of this trail.
Lettie’s tracks veered off to the right abruptly, and he pulled himself up short. The second set spurred straight ahead, as if the killer hadn’t predicted her change in trajectory. Good girl. She’d thrown him off. Stayed one step ahead. But where did that leave her?
Rome surveyed the steep decline, and his gut soured.
There was no way Lettie would’ve been able to keep up a grueling pace at this angle.
His feet were moving before he consciously ordered them to, but he’d lost sight of her tracks.
Instead, deep gouges and broken branches peppered the hill.
All the way down into the river snaking through the woods.
The water would’ve dropped below freezing this time of year, and if she’d gone in… “Lettie.”
Her name was a prayer and a plea. Putting his weight into his heels, he raced down the decline and hit the edge of the water.
Right as a dark outline hauled a body from the depths.
Rome didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, as waning golden light identified the masked killer standing over his victim. Lettie. Any hope of his own survival vanished. The blade was already in his hand. And he never missed. Gripping the tip of the knife, he threw it with everything he had left.
The blade imbedded into the bastard’s shoulder, right where the killer had shot Rome with a crossbow.
Momentum from the throw shoved the killer back a foot, and Rome charged.
His good shoulder connected with the man’s midsection.
Rome hauled her attacker off his feet with a scream full of desperation and something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time: fear.
An elbow slammed into his spine. Once. Twice.
But Rome wouldn’t give her abductor another chance to take her.
The killer’s heels fought for balance at the edge of the riverbank.
But Rome shoved the masked attacker into the river’s frozen depths.
Relief clawed at his insides, but one look at the woman on the ground chased it back. Collapsing to his knees, Rome turned her face toward his, saw the paleness of her face and the blue ring around her lips. “No. No, no, no. Come on, Lettie. Open your eyes.”
No response.
Biting through the pain in his arm, he fisted both hands over her sternum and counted off compressions, setting his mouth over hers to start breathing for her. Round after round, his heart dying a little more each time she failed to come to. But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t lose her again.
Her chest arched off the forest floor a split second before Lettie sputtered river water.
Her coughs destroyed the silence that’d taken hold in his head, and his entire world shifted.
Alive. She was alive. Scooping his wife into his arms, Rome buried his nose into her neck, trying to infuse as much warmth into her body as possible.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He rocked her across his lap. “I’ve got you.”