37. Chapter 37
Chapter 37
Anastasia
R un.
Hide.
Fight.
Dragging myself out through the shattered window of the overturned vehicle, glass slices into my palms, embedding itself in my skin. Pain flashes white-hot through my thigh as the knife lodged deep shifts with every desperate inch I crawl. My breath comes in sharp gasps, fogging in the frigid night air.
Gritting my teeth, I drag my bound wrists over the jagged shards of the shattered window. Pain flares as the glass bites into my skin, but I press harder, grinding the zip ties against the serrated edges.
Come on. Come on.
The plastic resists, tight and unyielding, digging deeper into my already bruised and swollen flesh. Blood slicks my fingers, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.
Snap.
The zip ties give way, splitting apart. My arms jerk forward, freed, though agony pulses through my wrists, skin raw and torn.
No time to dwell.
I flex my fingers, trying to force feeling back into them, my heart pounding with a single, unshakable thought. Levi’s phone. I fling it away, choking down the scream rising in my throat. No sound. No hesitation. Every move has to count. Blood drips freely from a gash on my forehead, blurring my vision in streaks of red. My hands tremble as I rip off my heels, throwing them aside. Useless. Slowing me down. Stumbling, my legs barely hold me upright, but the woods—they're right there. My only chance. Behind me, Jake groans. A slow, ragged inhale, then a shift of movement. My stomach knots. He’s waking up. "Ana," he hisses, voice slurred but laced with fury. “You fucking dumb cunt!” The snap of his seatbelt unlatching. The scrape of his boots against the crushed metal. Run. A vicious scream rips from my throat as I force myself to my feet, yanking at my dress until I tear off a strip of fabric. Shaking fingers wrap it tight above the wound, the makeshift tourniquet barely holding the pain at bay. The knife stays in. I can’t risk pulling it out. Not yet. I lurch forward, staggering into the snow-covered dirt, my bare feet sinking into the frozen ground. Cold wraps around me, biting deep, but there’s no time to feel it. No time to think. Branches claw at my arms as I push into the forest, weaving between the trees. My breath is loud...too loud. My pulse pounds, drowning out everything else. God, what do I do? How do I signal someone? Jake has my phone. He’ll know. He’ll know I planted my fucking phone on him, and now he’ll come after me even faster. But I can’t think about that now. All that matters is distance. I have to put as much space between us as possible. Snow clings to my feet, burning against my skin, but I keep moving. The adrenaline won’t last forever. My body will give out soon. But not now. Not until I’m safe.
Trying to keep a mental note of the direction I took, my blood betrays me, dark crimson splattering against the stark white of the snow.
Jake will follow.
He’ll track the trail with ease. He’ll know exactly where I went, and-
"Look at you."
I freeze. My breath catches.
The voice is smooth, laced with amusement, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it.
Stepping out from behind a tree, Cole emerges, eyes dark, unreadable. The blade in his hand gleams under the thin moonlight.
Fuck.
"Looks like Jake really did a number on her," another voice muses from behind me.
Walker.
I turn my head slightly, enough to see him. He stands with an easy stance, a small pistol resting comfortably in his grip. Not nervous. Not rushed. Both men are calm, confident. Armed.
I am bleeding. Weaponless. Barely standing.
Cole’s eyes flick around the clearing, scanning. "Where’s Jake?"
I force my shoulders to relax, my lips curling into a tired smile. "H-hopefully dead." My voice wavers, but I push through. "Maybe you can join him."
My fingers twitch, hovering near the hilt of the knife still buried in my thigh. Every pulse of pain is a reminder. It’s my only weapon. My only chance.
Cole smirks, but Walker steps in closer, gun angled lazily in my direction. "Now, now, Anastasia," he murmurs. "No need for such cruel talk before your final moments."
I exhale shakily, letting my body sag, throwing on my best look of defeat. My fingers curl tighter around the knife’s handle.
Let’s hope this tourniquet holds.
Walker sighs, shaking his head. "You know, I really did like you at one point. Could've fucked you real nice if you’d let me."
I swallow the revulsion curling in my gut. My eyes flick to his. Calculating. Measuring the distance.
"You know what the problem was with our night together, Walker?" I whisper, watching him take the bait, stepping closer.
Close enough to touch.
His lips twist into a smirk. "What’s that?"
"You fucked up my throat," I sneer. "Seems only fair I return the favor."
Confusion flashes across his face, but it’s already too late.
I strike.
My hand slams into his wrist, forcing the gun downward. Pain erupts as I rip the knife from my leg, my scream raw, vicious. Before Walker can react, I drive the blade forward, slashing deep across his throat.
His eyes go wide.
The gurgle comes next. Wet. Gasping. His hands fly to his neck, but it’s useless. Blood spills through his fingers, hot and dark. His knees buckle. The gun drops.
He crumples.
His body jerks, convulsing, before he slumps forward into the snow, his blood staining the earth beneath him.
I turn, just in time to see Cole lunge.
Falling, I slip on the bloodied ground, barely dodging the knife meant for my back. I scramble, reaching for the gun, but Cole is faster—he kicks it away.
His knife arcs down, the blade narrowly missing my skull as I roll aside.
Walker’s dying gasps rattle behind me, his body twitching in its final moments.
Cole’s breath is ragged, fury dripping from every inch of him. His eyes lock onto Walker’s corpse, horror and rage twisting his features.
"You fucking killed him!" he snarls, staring as his friend’s body stills, the last bit of life draining from his eyes.
"Fuck you!" I snap, clawing at the frozen earth, my nails raking through dirt and stone. Desperation fuels me. I scoop up a handful of debris and hurl it at Cole’s face, gravel and dust striking his skin.
He flinches, just for a second, wiping at his eyes.
"Who knew my life would be ruined just for fucking you," he snarls, his voice sharp with fury.
I barely hear him. My gaze flickers downward, searching frantically. A rock. Sharp. Jagged.
Here goes nothing.
With a burst of movement, I drive the rock into his thigh.
His scream is raw, furious. His knee jerks up in retaliation.
Crack.
Pain explodes across my face as his boot connects. My vision tunnels, stars bursting behind my swollen eye. The impact sends me sprawling, my breath hitching, choking on the blood pooling in my mouth.
Cole staggers, cursing, his fingers clawing at the embedded rock. With a sickening grunt, he rips it free, blood seeping from the wound. His grip tightens around his knife, knuckles white with rage.
I barely have time to react before his hand yanks at my hair, wrenching me toward him. A scream rips from my throat as I claw at his fingers, nails digging into his skin.
It doesn’t matter.
He’s stronger.
His blade presses against my throat, cold steel biting into my skin as he forces me still. My body trembles, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Look," he hisses.
I don’t want to. I know what’s there, but he wrenches my face toward Walker’s lifeless body. The blood pooling beneath him, the vacant stare, the way death has already claimed him.
"Walker won’t be needed to accomplish what I need to do," Cole mutters, his voice eerily calm.
My pulse pounds. What does that mean?
"I can still pin this all on you," he continues, tilting his head, considering. "Make it look like you killed Walker to save your own ass. Everyone will believe it."
My swollen eye refuses to stay open, leaving my vision half-blurred, lopsided. Every part of me aches. The chill of the snow seeps into my skin, numbing me to everything but the fire of survival still burning deep inside me.
I spit blood onto the ground, taking a shuddering breath.
Noah.
"Noah will kill you," I rasp, my voice broken, barely above a whisper.
Cole lets out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Really?" he sneers. "And where is Noah right now? Hmm?"
I clench my jaw, swallowing back the fear gnawing at my ribs.
I want to believe Noah is close. That he’s looking for me. That he’s coming.
But the truth settles over me like a weight I don’t want to carry.
What if he doesn’t know? What if he hasn’t put that I left my phone behind, that I’m out here, fighting for my life?
Or worse.
What if he’s still at the party?
Oblivious.
Out here, there is no Noah. No savior. No hope. Just Cole. Prowling. Hunting. Waiting for the moment he can steal my final breath.
His blood slicks the back of my neck, hot and sticky, dripping from the wound in his thigh. The knife presses firmer against my throat, the cold edge biting into my skin. A slow, deliberate pressure. A warning. A promise. My pulse hammers against the blade, a silent plea for mercy that I know will go unanswered.
Cole leans in, his breath searing against my ear, laced with the scent of copper and sweat. His voice is a rasping taunt, cruel and intimate.
“It’s just me and you, Anastasia,” he growls, twisting his fingers deeper into my hair, wrenching my head back so I’m forced to look at the sky.
My breath comes in shallow bursts, my body trembling, but not from the cold. From the memory. The nightmare replaying itself in vivid clarity.
“Just like before,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear, making my stomach turn. “Just like that night.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t stop his words from slicing through me.
“No Noah to protect you.” His grip tightens, his nails digging into my scalp. “No one to hear you scream as I cut that throat-”
“No one to hear you die,” I whisper, the words slipping from my lips like a vow.
His grip falters for half a second...just enough.
With a sharp inhale, I jab my fingers into the gaping wound on his thigh. Hard.
Cole howls, his entire body jerking. My fingers dig deeper, twisting, spreading the torn muscle apart like I’m peeling open a rotten fruit. His flesh gives way, wet and slick beneath my nails.
The knife clatters from his grip.
I don’t hesitate. I throw all of my weight backward, sending us both careening to the ground. The impact rattles through me, my ribs slamming against his chest, but there’s no time to recover. Cole is fast.
His arm snakes around my throat in a vice grip.
The air vanishes from my lungs.
No. No. No.
Panic explodes inside me as he squeezes, his entire body pressing down, suffocating me beneath his weight. I flail, my fingers clawing at the cold, unforgiving earth, desperate to find something, anything, to anchor me. My vision flickers, dark spots forming at the edges.
“You little fucking bitch,” he snarls, his voice strained, enraged, manic. Blood vessels burst in my eyes from the pressure, pain splintering through my skull.
“I will savor killing you,” he hisses, his breath hot against my temple. His free hand gropes blindly, searching.
Something cold brushes against my fingertips.
A knife. His knife.
My fingers fumble, shaking, slipping against the razor-sharp edge. A sting. Blood beads on my skin as I clutch the hilt.
“I will do what I please with your body after you’re dead,” he spits.
My lungs burn. My head is swimming. Blackness crawls in from the edges, licking at my consciousness.
I can’t-
No. I won’t.
Cole’s voice is a distant echo now, a cruel phantom in the night.
“Here lies Anastasia Burns,” he whispers, his laughter curdling my stomach. “Forever remembered as the killer of Levi Trace-”
I strike.
The knife buries deep, silencing him mid-sentence.
The sickening crunch of metal splitting bone vibrates up my arm. The wet, nauseating squelch of steel puncturing brain matter.
Cole stiffens beneath me. A strangled gurgle escapes his lips, his body convulsing, spasming as his grip slackens.
I shove myself away, gasping, heaving, scrambling backward on shaking limbs.
My vision clears just enough to see what I’ve done.
Cole lies motionless, eyes bloodshot and staring, mouth frozen in a silent scream. The knife juts from the side of his skull, embedded deep, blood pooling beneath him like spilled ink.
His chest doesn’t rise.
Doesn’t fall.
It’s over.
But the shaking doesn’t stop. The air still tastes of blood and fear. And as I stare down at him, my breath rasping in my throat, I realize the worst part isn’t that I killed him.
It’s that I don’t feel a single ounce of regret.
Surrounded by the lifeless bodies of Cole and Walker, the fight in me starts to flicker, dimming like a candle drowning in wax. My body drags itself across the frozen earth, every nerve screaming, every breath a ragged gasp. The cold bites deep, seeping into my bones, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. I need a phone. One of them has to have a phone.
Walker’s corpse is stiff beneath my trembling hands. His blood has already cooled, his skin clammy, but I don’t hesitate. I rip off his shoes, my numb fingers barely managing to peel the damp socks from his dead feet. They’re still warm. I shove them onto my own frozen toes, swallowing down the bile rising in my throat. His suit coat is next. It reeks of sweat and cologne, but I pull it around me, wrapping myself in stolen warmth.
The tremors in my hands worsen as I search his pockets, my breath a shuddering mess. Then, finally, plastic against my fingertips. My pulse stutters. A phone.
Fumbling, I yank it free, my fingers slick with dirt and blood as I bring it up, trying desperately to unlock it. The screen stays dark. Face ID.
No.
My gut twists, panic clawing at my ribs. My hands shake so badly I almost drop the damn thing. Frantic, I grip Walker’s lifeless face, trying to angle it toward the screen. His head lolls back unnaturally, his jaw slack. My stomach churns.
Then-
“Jesus Christ.”
The voice slams into me like a bullet.
My head snaps up.
Jake.
We lock eyes.
His Glock is already aimed at my chest, unwavering, steady. A deep gash runs across his hairline, blood trickling down the side of his face, staining his shirt collar. The wreck left its mark on him, but not enough to stop him. Not enough to make him hesitate.
My vision swims, too blurry to make out his full expression, but I don’t need clarity to know the truth.
He’s going to kill me.
I try to run. My body barely lifts off the ground before my injured leg buckles, sending me crashing down. A sharp cry rips from my throat as pain jolts through me, my lungs seizing against the freezing air.
Jake’s laughter slices through the night, cruel and hollow.
“You fucking monster,” he breathes, shaking his head. His lip curls in something between amusement and disgust. “Maybe you would’ve made it in Noah’s world.”
Noah.
My fingers clutch the necklace at my throat, the one Noah gave me, the metal burning against my skin. Tears well in my eyes, spilling over before I can stop them.
Jake smiles. Cold. Empty.
“How unfortunate.”
His gaze darkens.
“Too bad you picked the wrong brother.”
His finger tightens on the trigger.
The gunshot explodes.
Pain rips through me.
The world tilts, and the ground rushes up to meet me.
Darkness swallows me whole.