Chapter 24 Into the Woods
Into the Woods
WINONA
Just like Mitchell promised, the moment the clock struck six, I got an alert on my phone from an unknown number.
Your car has arrived.
Nerves spiked in my belly. I had no idea what was happening tonight. I’d texted Mitchell for details more than once today, but besides asking for my dress size with my first message this morning, he’d only given me one further response—a devil smiling emoji.
Outside, a black car was waiting for me, the driver in a full suit, hat and all, holding the door for me. I felt dowdy in my jeans and sneakers, but Mitchell had insisted I dress comfortably.
“How are you doing?” I asked the driver as he pulled away.
“Fine, miss.”
That was it. No reciprocal conversation.
I didn’t bother asking where we were going.
I knew as soon as he turned up the hill that it was to Mitchell’s.
I wasn’t disappointed. On the contrary, I was relieved.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to a restaurant in town, where people would have lots to say about me and some mysterious stranger.
Especially when said stranger was suddenly not in town a short time after.
Plus, earlier in the week, Sarah had freaked out when her boss had casually mentioned that Mitchell’s home had been designed by one of her favorite architects.
She’d asked me about all the features, and I’d been embarrassed to tell her I hadn’t seen much of the place, but I promised her the next time I was there, I’d insist he give me a tour.
But tonight, I knew I wouldn’t be calling the shots. And I was ready for it. More than ready.
When we approached the gate though, I was surprised to see it had been left open. My surprise turned to concern when the driver told me this was as far as he was going.
“The house is a good kilometer up the driveway,” I said.
“Sorry, Miss.” He left his seat and came around to open my door. “My instructions were to drop you here. And to give you this.”
In his hand, he held a flashlight and an envelope.
My stomach flipped as I started to get an inkling of what might be happening. I swallowed, taking the objects, then looking at the darkness of the forest the driveway disappeared into.
“Mitchell,” I whispered. “You didn’t.”
The pop of gravel behind me made me turn, my heart thumping hard. The driver was pulling away. I was on Mitchell’s lonely street, with no other houses in view. And…I turned around frantically. I’d left the tote bag I’d packed in the backseat. “Hey!” I called, waving.
But the car didn’t stop. Its taillights glowed in the dusk and disappeared as it rounded the corner.
“Shit.” I knew I could probably easily get my bag back, though maybe not in time for tonight.
I’d packed a change of clothes, a bathing suit, and a box of condoms. I didn’t know what I’d need, though surely Mitch had the last thing.
My wallet was in there too. But my phone.
.. I patted my jeans, letting out a sigh of relief as I felt it in my back pocket.
I could still call someone. I could get a taxi.
Cher could be up here in ten minutes. I checked for any last-minute instructional text from Mitchell.
But there was nothing on my screen except the photo of Ryan and Calvin they’d sent me from their Thanksgiving visit last week.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket. I couldn’t look at them. Not with my mind where it was.
I didn’t want to leave.
Because even though my heart was beating hard, my breathing shallow, I didn’t feel unsafe.
I felt a low-level thrum of basic self-preservation-based fear, of course.
My stomach wobbled with it. But my core also throbbed, a slickness soaking the gusset of my underwear as I walked forward, past the threshold of Mitchell’s property. This was Mitchell’s plan.
This was actually happening. This was exactly what I'd wanted.
I took a breath. “I got this,” I whispered, keeping my footsteps steady.
I jumped at a low rumbling sound behind me. The gate was rolling closed. I swallowed as it connected with the wall, the lock clicking into place. No turning back now.
There was just enough dusk that the path in front of me was visible without the flashlight, though there were dark clouds crowding in.
It was going to rain. It wasn’t light enough to read the note though, so I flicked on the light, shining the beam at the square piece of paper in my sweaty hand.
Winona, it said, in slanting ink. I’d never seen Mitchell’s handwriting.
His penmanship was sexy, with its low, languid strokes of ink.
I flipped the envelope over, sliding my finger through the back flap. On the front of the card was a black and white image: a woodcut forest scene, with a castle tucked into trees at the top of a hill, a full moon carved into the background.
A cursed castle.
A tingling ran up the back of my neck. I was deeply aware of the darkness pressing in around me.
I opened the card. There was only one word written there.
Run.
The flashlight slipped from my hand, thudding softly onto the gravel. A moment later, a single snap of a twig in the forest sounded behind me.
I let out a whimper of real fear.
Then I did as the card said.
I ran. I pumped my legs, adrenaline ripping through me. I stuck to the driveway at first, sprinting up the curved path as it wound through the trees. I thought I heard something in the woods to my left, but I was breathing so hard, my blood roaring in my ears, I couldn’t be sure.
And I’d left the flashlight behind.
Another crash sounded to my right. I shrieked, nearly stumbling. I suddenly wasn’t so sure I wanted to do this. I’d been unprepared for the terror coursing through my veins at the darkness around me and the absolute certainty that I was now being chased.
But I was safe. I reminded myself I knew my pursuer. This wasn’t like the last time, when I didn’t physically have to run, but I still needed to look over my shoulder at every turn. This was different. This was planned, and even out of control, I was still in charge of what ultimately happened.
And suddenly, that fear felt closer to deliciously painful instead of I’m going to die. It became mine to claim instead of it claiming me.
I crested a hill and fully screamed as a shadow burst from the trees ahead of me. But I was smiling.
Sort of.
The figure stood in the middle of the path maybe fifty feet ahead, nothing but a silhouette in the near-dark. He was big. I'd almost forgotten how big. His hulking shoulders heaved, his muscled arms tense at his sides, legs planted wide apart.
He’d been so fast he’d circled around me, cutting me off.
My heart slammed so hard against my ribs I thought it might split in two.
I took a step back. The figure didn’t move.
The terror, for a moment, was real again, only I could recognize it as a base animal instinct pumping through me.
I ran again, this time cutting right, into the woods. Away from the creature on the road.
The panicky feeling was almost too much, like the ticking of a roller coaster up that first hill, when it’s far too late to get off.
My footsteps were loud, crashing through twigs and brush. But his were louder, and no matter where I ran, they seemed to get closer.
“I see you, little bunny,” Mitchell’s voice echoed from way too close.
I screamed, but it was too late. He was behind me, an iron-strong arm around my waist, lifting me off my feet. I kicked, instinct taking over as we tumbled to the ground together.
“No!” I cried.
“Say the word if you need to, Winona,” Mitchell’s low rumbling voice was in my ear. “Do you remember it?”
“I remember,” I grunted, shoving at the arm around me, adrenaline coursing through me.
“Tell me.”
“Butterfly. But I’m not saying it.”
For a moment, I thought he might not follow through. That this was too much for him, too.
But he let out a growl, and then we were moving, rolling around on the ground, me pushing with my leg to ensure we didn’t stop yet.
If we’d landed with him on top, I’d be done for.
But we didn’t. We stopped with me on him, and I pushed off, twisting out of his grasp.
“Fuck you, Wolf!” I cried, this close to kneeing him in the crotch before remembering I didn’t actually want to hurt him.
Especially not there. I scrambled to my feet.
His hand swiped out, wrapping around my ankle.
I shrieked and fell, but the momentum pulled me out of his grasp. I took advantage, springing back to my feet and sprinting.
“Run, little bunny!” Mitchell called out. My stomach soared with adrenaline, my feet moving faster than they ever had before.
The ground had leveled out, and I was able to pick up even more speed. I thought, in fact, that I’d done it—I’d outmaneuvered him. He may have been fast and strong, but his bulk must have made it more difficult to get off the gr—
I was sideswiped just as I emerged from the woods onto the palatial grounds of his estate. But I didn’t fall, even though I think he did, behind me.
I didn’t have time to think. Footfalls sounded behind me, heavy and strong. As I grew closer to the middle of the lawn, motion lights flared on, bright as a football field. Would the alarm sound next?
I sprinted harder. Maybe if I made it to the house, I’d win this round.
But I’d underestimated Mitchell Harrington. From the very beginning, I’d assumed he was something he wasn’t. Spoiled. Entitled. Angry. Rude.
Heavy. Lumbering. Overly bulky.
And I’d done it again. Just as I reached the massive fountain in the middle of the lawn at a dead run, I found myself lifted right off my feet, those arms wrapped around my waist once more. We were fully airborne. Time slowed to a crawl.
Landing was going to hurt.
But Mitchell twisted around at the last moment. We hit the ground backward, me on top of him.
A loud oomph sounded as he thudded against the grass, taking the full brunt of the fall.