The Trap
Gabrielle POV
I stop.?
Something breaks. The fog in my head shatters like glass.
A cold wave of dread crashes through me.
I shouldn’t be here.
I knew that. My instincts screamed it at me.
So why did I follow him anyway?
Connor is standing between me and the path back.
“What is it?” he asks. Unaware of my change, as a cold wave of dread crashes through me.
My pulse thunders in my ears. Play it cool, Gabi – I school myself.
“This is far enough,” I say, feigning nonchalance. My voice sounds thin, but it’s there.
Connor exhales softly, and turns. Slow. Deliberate.
He smiles – but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“We still need more,” he says, nodding at the wood in my arms. “We're almost there.”
“I don't care I say,” I say, firmer this time. "I'm going back."
Irritation flickers across his face before he smooths it away, his expression rearranging itself into something more reasonable. Patient.
“Don’t be difficult, Gabrielle.”
There it is.
I glance past him, back the way we came. The path looks different now – thinner, less certain, like it's closing in behind us.
"We're not supposed to be this far out," I say.
He smiles and steps closer. Too close.
"We're exactly where we're supposed to be."
That prickle crawls up my spine, sharp an unmistakable.
I drop the wood and turn to go – baser instincts taking over.
That’s when his voice changes. Sharp. Ugly.
“You think running away makes you strong, little orphan?” he sneers behind me.
I dart through the trees, heart hammering, breath tearing from my chest. I sense he’s close – too close – but I don't slow.
My ankle catches on a root and I stumble. Branches tear at my sleeves as I fight to stay up-right.
Then he's there.
His hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist.
The contact burns.
“Let go,” I gasp, breath coming too fast.
His grip tightens.
“Relax,” he murmurs. “This was always the plan. I have someone for you to meet.”
He wraps both arms around me, crushing us together, pinning my movements.
Something inside me rises.
Pressure builds behind my eyes – hot, blinding – like something is forcing its way out of my chest, desperate for space. My vision blurs. My ribs ache.
On instinct, I shove him.
Hard.
The air cracks with power.
Connor is thrown backward, hitting the ground with a dull thud, the breath ripped from his lungs.
For a heartbeat, everything goes silent.
I stare at my hands.
They’re shaking. Buzzing. Warm in a way they shouldn’t be.
Connor looks up at me, shock stripped away into something colder. Something calculating.
I don’t wait for him to speak.
Run.
The word is all I have left.
Adrenaline hijacks my limbs as I sprint away, every sense sharpened. Branches claw at my arms. Leaves whip in my face. The forest narrows, leaning in.
Don’t look back. Don’t slow down.
A mantra I repeat as my chest aches.
My chest burns as air rips through my lungs, but I can't stop. I won't stop. The ground slopes, dips, rises again. Roots snag at my boots. Twigs snaps underfoot.
I must be near the border now. I surge on.
Something snaps.
I don't feel it at first.
Then pain detonates up my leg.
I hit the ground hard with a cry. For a split second, I don't understand what's happened.
I move.
Metal bites into my ankle.
Cold. Unforgiving.
I scream.
The sound tears out of me, raw and wild, before I can stop it. I claw at the steel clamp biting into my skin. Blood blooms through the fabric. The trap doesn’t budge.
Any strength I had before evaporates – like it never existed at all.
Panic floods me.
I sag back, breath hitching, ankle screaming with every pulse of my heart. Blood seeps dark into the leaves beneath me. The world tilts.
My vision fractures.
Somewhere nearby footsteps crunch.
Slow. Unhurried.
I feel my consciousness fading.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
My throat is tight with the knowledge settling heavy in my chest.
I didn't escape.