Chapter 17 Ava
SEVENTEEN
AVA
My knees crack against splintered boards as I lift Scott’s lifeless head from the floor. He’s dead weight in my lap, so heavy my bones grind into the hardwood below, but I won’t let go. Cradling his face with trembling fingers, I smooth his damp hair back from his forehead.
I know I should be more concerned with the man standing above us, quiet except for his harsh breaths as he takes in my frantic movements. He hasn’t said another word, hasn’t made a move to harm me. I watch out of the corner of my eye, but I can’t tear my entire focus away from Scott.
“Scott. Come on. Please wake up,” I whisper, my voice quivering against every syllable.
His breath stutters, lips twitching. A low, guttural sound rattles from his chest and pours out between cracked lips. My heart lurches, breaking open with hope so raw it hurts.
“Yes. That’s it. That’s good. I’m right here. Come back to me.” My words tumble out in a rush as I rock him against me, clutching him close. My hands wander, searching for more signs of life. His chest rises, and his eyes move beneath their heavy lids. It’s something.
“Just open your eyes for me. That’s all you have to do. Be back here with me,” I murmur it again and again, pressing my cheek to his temple, holding him tighter, regardless of the awkward position and the smell leeching from his skin.
Another groan shakes out of him, and I almost sob with relief. He’s fighting for me. For us.
I’m so focused on him, so consumed by every shallow breath, that at first I miss it—a hollow groan of a floorboard bending beneath weight.
My head jerks up, finally taking in the threat before me.
I pinch my eyes shut, shaking my head. I know this face, but can’t place where I’ve seen it. Maybe he has one of those looks that melds into the crowds of people I pass every day. A pit of trepidation swells in my gut, my internal warning siren cranked to full blast.
He closes another foot between us. There are only so many in this cramped space. Scott’s body lies spread before us, a human barrier, and I feel guilty for using it. If anything, based on that kick, I should be the one protecting him from this lunatic.
“Stop! Don’t come any closer,” I shout with more gusto than I feel.
His head tilts, eyes scanning across my body. They heat, pinching with palpable anger when they stop at my hands in Scott’s hair, holding his head gently in my lap.
I can’t breathe under his focus, but I can’t look away.
Pale irises contrast against his blown pupils. His nostrils flare, like a raging bull. But it’s the deep auburn hair that peeks from under his low-pulled beanie that seizes a gasp from my lungs.
He marks the change immediately, a wicked grin stretching his thin lips.
The smell wafting off him hits me, burrowing into my throat until I gag around it. His intrigued smile doesn’t fall; it seems deliberate, a tell I can’t quite read.
He knows me.
And now, I know him.
The air itself thickens, weighted with the sound of my own pounding heart. How did he get here? How did he find me? Campus security said it was taken care of when I turned over the notes. The Dean promised he’d been removed after the incident last fall.
I shouldn’t have trusted the school to make sure this crazy stalking asshole was taken care of. I should have called the cops and filed a report—gotten a restraining order.
Another moan tears out of Scott, louder this time, and my eyes flicker between the two men.
My hands clutch at Scott’s jacket, hauling him further into my lap. Wrapping my arms around his bulky shoulders, I hold him to me like a shield. It’s not fair, but I know if he were conscious and knew the extent of the situation, he’d be doing the same.
My tears spill hot and fast into the thick material of his Carhartt jacket.
“Please, Scott. Open your eyes. I need you.”
Black boots inch closer, rounding Scott’s body, until they butt against my pants. Every instinct in me screams to move, to run, to fight, but my heart won’t let me release my grip. Not when Scott’s fighting for consciousness.
A raspy, half-breath, half-growl blows my free locks across my cheek as he settles into a crouch beside me. I keep my eyes averted, digging my fingers deeper into Scott’s jacket.
His intense gaze pierces my flesh. I know he wants my attention, but I’m afraid it will snap the scene into something I’m not ready to face.
“My pretty… little… thorn,” his gravelly voice whispers.
Puffs of his breath blow hot against my skin, while rough fingers trace across my cheek. My body quivers against his unwanted touch that tucks my hair behind my ear.
I try to pull away, but the world rips out from under me.
His hand clamps around my arm, cold enough to bite through my jacket, rough enough to bruise.
I scream, the sound tearing raw from my throat as I’m yanked away, ripped from Scott’s side like I weigh nothing.
My fingernails scrape at the floorboards, scrabbling for anything to hold, but splinters only tear into my skin as he drags me away and up into his arms.
“No! Let me go! Sco—tt!” My voice cracks.
He hauls me across the rotten floor, intent on leaving the cabin. I dig in my heels, dropping my weight to try and throw him off balance, but it doesn’t work. My weight is no match for his strength. He continues toward the front door unperturbed.
If he gets me out of here, away from Scott… The horrors of what could happen crash into me.
I fling every part of my body in a different direction, hoping something loosens his grip. My head doesn’t connect with his nose. My boots don’t quite reach his shins. My arms are still pinned tight to my sides as he drags me away like a prize.
It’s no use.
My frustration boils over. Tears spring from my lids in rapid succession, tracking down my wind-chafed cheeks. A never-ending scream burns through my throat until it dies on my tongue like a forgotten promise.
My heel finally connects with something hard, earning me a grunt of annoyance from my captor.
“Stop testing me, Ava. If you want, I can kill him now. Then you’ll have no reason to stay behind.”
His threat slithers cold across my skin, stilling me in his grasp at the entrance to the cabin.
Before us, Scott coughs, sputtering back to life, like a reanimated corpse on a coroner’s slab. The ragged, broken sound from his chest is a starting gun reverberating throughout the entire forest.
He stirs, struggling against the weight of his body. His hands twitch weakly as he tries to gain purchase on the floor to sit himself upright. His scratchy voice cuts through my terror.
“A… va.”
I cry out, ignoring my keeper’s last threat. Twisting again against his hold, I reach behind me, hands landing against thick material. I dig my fingers in, desperate to draw blood, to cause pain.
“Mine,” he growls, yanking me tighter to his chest, drawing my feet up from the floor, and my ear close to his lips.
“He’ll never have you again, little thorn. I’ll set this fucking hovel aflame and make you watch from the ridgeline.”
Unhinged laughter assaults my ears. But this time, I don’t stop fighting. The longer I do, the more time Scott might have to get his feet under him.
My eyes lock on Scott’s, but they’re not clear. They flicker open for only a moment before slamming shut and staying closed for far longer than we need.
“Say goodbye, my beautiful girl. I think it’s time we’re finally alone.”
No. No. No. This can’t happen. My leg flies free, and his hold shifts, dropping me nearly to the ground.
The heel of my boot catches on the raised edge of the threshold.
It’s enough to send us off balance. I feel the world tilt as I lose my footing.
Crashing backwards, my head collides with something hard before I crumple to the ground.
I moan, reaching up to feel the tender spot. It’s warm and wet. When I pull my hand free, the crimson smear contrasts against my pale skin.
“Fuck,” I groan.
The pain sets in immediately, a thunderous pounding pulses, swirling the non-existent contents of my stomach.
“Now, look what you’ve done, little thorn.”
His voice is a cattle prod to my nervous system. My feet scramble, slipping against the grime-coated wooden planks. Every movement makes the pain worse, and the nausea teases at the back of my throat.
“Up you go,” he says, lifting me to my feet.
The world sways. My vision swims, and his dead eyes are the last thing I see before everything goes black.