19. Kira
19
KIRA
A stinging slap across my face returns me to my senses.
My gaze connects with Bryce’s green stare.
I’m still in the back of the postman’s truck. From the trees and greenery behind Bryce’s shoulder, we’re still in Wylder. I think. Maybe just outside of the town? I don’t know. There are no landmarks. Nothing familiar.
He’s still wearing the postman’s pale blue uniform, and has his gun tucked in the gun belt he’s looped around his hips. I seriously hope he didn’t kill anyone to get it. No one deserves to suffer or die because I left Bryce.
As I shuffle deeper into the truck, wanting to get away from whatever punishment he’s dragged me out here for, his hand snaps out, yanking me back toward him.
“Just like my mom, you don’t know how to keep a vow, and you never will.”
My eyes dart to the gun in his belt.
I didn’t believe he would use the gun on me. It was always a threat.
Until now.
Now I think he’s gearing up to use the gun on me.
“Don’t do this, Bryce. Please don’t—” I scream as he grabs my hair and pulls me out of the truck.
I slam into the hard earth with a grunt. Before I can recover from the impact, he’s dragging me along.
Tears stream from my eyes, blinding me to everything except the dirt trodden ground in front of me.
The back of a silver sedan comes into view. It’s unfamiliar. So is the license plate.
Bryce shoves me into the open trunk, and I groan. My head is still ringing as he forces my legs in, then slams the lid of the trunk down, leaving me in darkness.
Terror floods my senses.
But it’s nothing compared to the panic his next words provoke.
“Till death us do part, Kira.” His footsteps move away, crunching on the hard ground as I fumble for a catch to get out of this trunk. “You might not have meant it, but I sure as hell did.”
The car vibrates when Bryce starts the engine. I jolt forward, crying out when he takes off and I slam my forehead on something I don’t see.
I don’t know where he’s taking me, but I can guess.
Somewhere remote.
Somewhere he can deal with the wife who failed him the way his mom failed his father and him. Then he will go back to Missouri to cry crocodile tears when someone eventually finds my body. If they don’t find it, he can still cry those crocodile tears for the wife who left him without a word.
He would get away with murder.
I have to get out. No one will know what happened to me or where I went. And Dom…
My eyes burn at the thought of never seeing him again. I didn’t tell him that I wanted to stay in Wylder with him, or that the person I wish I’d married was him. Not Bryce.
Bryce makes a turning and something smacks me on the side of my head.
I rub at the spot, angling to see what it was, and the bottom falls out of my stomach.
A shovel.
I bang at the trunk lid with everything I have as panic overwhelms my ability to think straight. Bryce will stop, shoot me, then bury me in the forest.
I have to get out. Now .
I grab the shovel, hoping to use it to free myself. It’s no help. With not enough room to maneuver, all it does is bounce off the sides and thump me in the head and my belly.
I bang my head, my elbow, my shoulders as I lift both legs and kick at the release instead, trying to force it open.
Desperate tears drip from my eyes and I cry out in frustration, but the trunk lid never budges.
My head pounds from the worst headache I’ve ever had. My legs ache from kicking the door. But no amount of kicking and screaming releases me from the trunk.
Finally, my strength exhausted, I lie still, my cheek on the trunk bed, tears sliding down the side of my face as I count down the seconds until I die.
Bryce makes a sharp turn, and I’m so sore I don’t even cry out when the shovel smacks me on the back of the head. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here. Twenty or thirty minutes. Maybe even longer.
Tension squeezes my throat, makes it hard to breathe as the car slows to a crawl and then stops.
I hold my breath, listening with my whole body as the engine cuts out. The door squeaks a little as it swings open. I jump when it slams shut.
And I brace myself.
I might only get one chance to get away from Bryce when he opens that trunk.
Just one opportunity to surprise him and get away.
Or I die.
I remember the shovel as Bryce’s footsteps crunch, slow and steady, around the car.
I’m closing my hands around the handle, willing myself to be brave enough to throw it at Bryce like a javelin, or hit him with it and run, when a soft beep sounds. The trunk lid opens and?—
A gun cocks, freezing me on the spot.
Bryce stands one foot away from the vehicle, gripping the gun he spent the last few years threatening me with. His eyes are laser focused. “ Drop it .”
He sounds exactly like a cop because he is one. Maybe that’s why I instinctively drop the shovel. He’s also the man I refuse to call my husband anymore, and he is going to kill me.
“Get out,” he orders.
I don’t move.
Maybe he won’t shoot me here. If I resist him long enough, then he’ll decide this is too much effort.
“I won’t tell you again, Kira.”
I get out of the trunk, nearly falling when my legs give way from being curled up for however many miles we’ve been on the road.
The second my feet touch the dirt, Bryce has one hand in my hair and his grip is tight . “Get the shovel.”
I consider hitting him with it the second I grab it. He’s close enough I could do a lot of damage, force him to let me go, then I could run.
He must be a mind reader to lower his mouth to my ear. “I have the gun pointed at your head, Kira. I’m not missing from this close. Don’t try anything.”
I pick up the shovel and cry out as he drags me away from the car, deeper into the forest. I trip, stumble, and cry out again. No matter what I do, his grip never loosens and his pace never slows.
We walk for maybe five or ten minutes when he stops at a small clearing, muttering. “This will do.”
I’ve barely lifted my head when he shoves me.
My shoulder slams into a tree and I fall, dropping the shovel as he barks. “Start digging.”
And I know this is the end.
I look up at this furious man I thought I loved. Who I did love. Once, so many years ago. Back then, I was a different person and so was he. The man I’m looking at bears no relation to the man I thought I knew because I never knew him. He was a stranger all along.
“How can you do this, Bryce?”
“How can I…” He barks out a harsh laugh, never lowering his gun so I never get an opportunity to run. “You are mine, Kira. My wife. You think you can walk away?” He shakes his head, his eyes glittering with fury. “No, you don’t get to do that.”
I’m fumbling for a way I can get out of this when his gaze dips. I thought he was angry before. It’s nothing compared to the look in his eyes now.
I instinctively lean away from him.
“You whore ,” he whispers, his voice trembling with white-hot rage.
His palm lashes out, and I cry out when it connects with my cheek.
He’s shaking me as he yells. “You fucked him, didn’t you?” Another hard shake. “Did you think I wouldn’t see that hickey he gave you?”
I try to break free but I can’t see. He’s shaking me that hard.
Bryce stops suddenly, whispering, “What was?—”
He shoves me to the ground, spins around and fires as something slams into the tree beside my head, making me scream and duck.
In the distance, something thumps to the ground and a man groans.
Through a gap in the trees, I spy movement and a hint of khaki. One glimpse is all I have time to see because Bryce is turning to me, lifting the gun, and then…
Something rams Bryce into the tree beside me. A loud crack rings out and he crumples to the ground, the gun falling from his limp hands. From the angle of his neck, he will never move again.
Then suddenly, I’m face to face with an enormous wolf with dark brown fur and light brown, almost gold eyes. Behind him, five other wolves step into the clearing that Bryce was getting ready to bury me in.
But this wolf is closest, and it’s doing something strange.
My heart is in my throat as the wolf’s fur slowly recedes and skin—tanned, but human skin—replaces fur.
A man rises to his feet. A familiar man.
Dom.