Ava
The van bounces and jolts over rough terrain, every pothole and rock sending fresh waves of pain through my already bruised body.
I’m curled into the smallest ball possible on the cold, oily metal floor, my teeth chattering so hard they feel like they might crack.
Tears stream hot down my cheeks, mixing with the dirt and dried blood from the glass cuts.
The metallic taste of fear coats my tongue, and the stuffy air inside the van reeks of engine grease, stale sweat, and the faint coppery hint of blood from where I bit that awful man’s hand.
Every breath I take burns in my lungs, shallow and panicked, as the engine growls like some angry beast carrying me farther and farther away from Jax.
I can’t stop crying. Soft, hiccupping sobs that shake my whole frame.
Jax. The man who promised me a home in Timber Creek with bookshelves and lazy mornings.
Is he okay? Did they hurt him? The memory of his roar calling my name as they dragged me away echoes in my head, making my chest tighten until I can barely breathe.
I love him so much it hurts worse than the bruises or the freezing cold seeping through my torn clothes.
My romcom brain keeps whispering that this is the part where the hero comes bursting in at the last second, but right now all I feel is raw terror and the aching emptiness where his arms should be wrapped around me.
The van sways around another sharp turn. I press my forehead against the cold metal, trying to focus on anything besides the fear clawing at my insides. The motion makes my stomach roll uneasily, the lingering sweetness of peach cobbler from the Alpha Pig now sour and wrong.
Hours seem to pass, though I’ve got no way of knowing for sure.
The darkness inside the van is absolute except for thin slivers of moonlight that sneak through cracks in the doors.
My fingers trace the sore spots on my wrists where the men grabbed me too hard, the skin already swelling and tender.
I whisper Jax’s name like a prayer, over and over, letting the sound of it ground me.
“Jax. Jax, please be okay. Come find me. I need you.” My voice cracks, barely audible over the rumble of the engine and the crunch of tires on snow.
Every bump reminds me of how small and alone I am.
My coat is soaked through, clinging heavily to my skin, and my socks are wet and freezing, toes numb.
The cold bites deep, making my muscles stiff and my teeth chatter uncontrollably.
I try to think of warm things. The heat of Jax’s body when he held me on that table.
The way his rough hands felt palming my breasts.
The delicious stretch when he filled me so completely.
But even those memories twist with fear now.
What if I never feel that again? What if this is the end of our story before it even really began?
The van finally slows, the engine growling lower as it turns onto what feels like a smoother but still uneven surface.
My heart leaps into my throat. We’re stopping.
Voices shout outside in Spanish, harsh and commanding.
Doors slam. Footsteps crunch on snow. I scramble into a crouch, ignoring the dizziness and the sting of glass cuts on my knees.
This might be my only chance. Jax taught me some basic self-defense moves during those quiet moments in the cabin and the SUV.
Simple things. Eye gouge. Groin kick. Use momentum.
You can do this, Ava. Be the plucky heroine in your own romance thriller.
The back doors fly open with a metallic screech that makes me flinch.
Harsh white light from a warehouse floods in, blinding me for a second.
Two men stand silhouetted against the glow, their dark clothes blending with the shadows.
One of them reaches in and grabs my ankle, yanking me toward the edge.
I don’t think. I act. As soon as my feet hit the snowy ground I twist hard like Jax showed me, driving my elbow straight into the man’s throat.
He chokes, staggering back with a gurgling sound.
The second man lunges for me, but I bring my knee up fast and sharp between his legs.
He howls in pain, doubling over. Adrenaline surges through me, hot and wild, drowning out the terror for one precious moment.
I run.
My boots slip and slide on the icy snow as I sprint toward the dark line of woods bordering an abandon warehouse.
The ground is uneven, rocks and roots hidden under fresh powder that crunches loudly under my feet.
Branches whip at my face and arms, leaving stinging scratches that burn in the freezing air.
My lungs scream for oxygen, each breath a sharp, painful rasp that clouds white in front of me.
Snow soaks through my clothes completely now, heavy and clinging, turning every step into a battle against the cold that seeps deeper into my bones.
Behind me, shouts erupt. “?La chica! ?Atrápenla!” Boots pound after me, multiple sets crashing through the underbrush.
Flashlight beams slice through the trees, sweeping wildly and catching on snow-laden branches that glitter like broken glass.
I duck low, weaving between thick pines whose rough bark scrapes my shoulders as I pass.
I keep running, legs burning, chest heaving.
Every muscle protests but I push harder, Jax’s voice echoing in my mind.
You’re stronger than you think, sweetheart.
Fight for us. Tears freeze on my lashes, making my vision blurry, but I blink them away.
The woods are dense here, ancient evergreens overhead, their branches heavy with snow that occasionally dumps cold loads onto my head and shoulders as I brush past.
A gunshot cracks somewhere behind me, the sound echoing through the trees like thunder.
I scream involuntarily but keep moving, zigzagging deeper into the darkness.
“Jax,” I whisper between gasps. “I need you. Please find me.” My romcom brain tries to spin this into something hopeful.
The brave heroine escapes into the enchanted forest, leading her love on a dramatic chase.
But the reality is so much harsher. The cold’s eating into me, making my movements slower, clumsier.
Hypothermia is a real threat. My teeth chatter violently, and my fingers are stiff and clumsy where they clutch at low branches for balance.
I pause for a second behind a massive fallen log, pressing my back against the bark.
My heart hammers so loudly I’m sure they can hear it.
Footsteps crunch nearby, voices calling to each other in angry bursts.
One flashlight beam sweeps terrifyingly close, illuminating the snow around me in a bright circle.
I hold my breath, lungs burning, until it moves on.
I can’t stay here. I push off again, running deeper.
The terrain slopes downward slightly, and I slip more than once, landing hard on my hands and knees.
Snow packs into the cuts, stinging like fire before going numb.
My coat is in tatters now, offering almost no warmth.
Shivers wrack my body constantly, deep and uncontrollable.
I wish I had a phone, anything to alert Jax.
A flare. A signal. But there’s nothing. Just me and these endless woods and the men hunting me.
Time blurs. I run until my legs feel like lead, then walk when I have to, always moving, always listening.
The searchers’ voices grow fainter at times but never disappear completely.
They’re spreading out, calling my name mockingly.
“Come out, little librarian. We’ve got plans for you.
” Their laughter sends fresh chills down my back that have nothing to do with the cold.
I crest a small ridge and spot what looks like a faint road in the distance, a darker line cutting through the trees.
Hope surges, warm and fragile. If I can reach a road, maybe flag down help or find a house.
Anything. I head toward it, slipping and sliding down the slope.
Branches snag my hair, pulling strands loose.
My breathing’s ragged, visible in white puffs that dissipate into the night.
The snow is falling heavier now, large fluffy flakes that stick to my eyelashes and melt against my feverishly hot cheeks.
Every step hurts. My feet are beyond numb, probably frostbitten. My arms throb from the glass and scratches. But I think of Jax. His stormy eyes softening when he looks at me. I love him. I have to survive for him. For our future.
The road gets closer. I can see it now, a narrow logging path maybe, covered in snow but unmistakable.
My heart leaps. But then voices rise again behind me, closer.
Flashlights dance through the trees. I drop low, crawling behind a cluster of bushes whose frozen leaves scratch at my face.
The cold ground leeches more heat from my body.
I’m shivering so violently now it’s hard to stay quiet.
One of the men passes within twenty feet, his boots crunching heavily.
I hold perfectly still, barely breathing, praying my luck holds.
He moves on. I wait until his light fades, then scramble up and run again toward the road.
My legs protest with every stride, muscles screaming, but I push through.
The woods thin slightly near the road. I burst out onto the snowy path, the open space feeling both freeing and terrifyingly exposed. Wind whips across it, driving snow horizontally into my face. I turn left, following the faint tracks, hoping it leads somewhere, anywhere with people or shelter.
“Jax,” I whisper again, voice hoarse. “I’m trying. I love you.”
The night stretches on, cold and endless. I keep moving, one freezing foot in front of the other, searching for any sign of help. A light. A house. A miracle. My wild heart still believes in happy endings, even as my body screams for rest and the cartel closes in somewhere behind me in the dark.