22
EMERSYN
My nerves were in my throat on the walk back around the lake toward the campsite.
I wondered what Sacha meant by making it uncomfortable for them to leave, but I quickly found out about a half-mile before I reached the camp.
Blood appeared on the path. I paused long enough to get a picture of what happened.
Two men. Moving quickly. Their tracks were sloppy.
At one point it looked like they froze and turned in circles.
Sacha must have shot at them. Their tracks retreated back down the trail, this time in panic.
Their strides were stretched like they were running, and there was more blood on the surrounding foliage. One or both of them were injured.
I picked up my pace and followed the tracks.
The unknown slowly dropped away as I settled into a hunter’s cadence.
There was no room for invasive thoughts or hesitation—just action.
I followed the trail all the way back to the campsite.
I thought I’d feel some sort of way once I reached the scene of the crime, but the campsite was nearly unrecognizable.
It looked like someone had ransacked it.
The tent was half-taken down with poles thrown all over the clearing.
The fire looked like it’d been kicked haphazardly, and there was trash and general camping debris strewn as far as the shore of the lake.
My gaze caught on the pieces of orange rope that had been used to bind me.
My chest seized and there was a brief minute where my mind tried to blare a warning to run away.
I clutched my rifle, my jaw tight—all the emotions collided, trying to vie for my attention, yet I only had interest in one—rage.
I found where the trail picked up outside of the camp. The blood was fresher here—I prepared myself to make contact.
It wasn’t long before I heard them. Up until that moment, I’d been convinced I’d just shoot them and be done—but as I crept closer and gained on them, I knew I needed to look them in the eye.
These men had taken from me, made me feel helpless and afraid, and I was going to make them feel all of those things and more.
Sacha’s words lingered in my mind: Show them what it means to have you as an enemy.
I wanted them to know it was me. I knew for sure that was the right choice as soon as I rounded a bend in the trail and saw them. I simply wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than their blood running over my hands, like Jas’ had. The thought sent chills of excitement down my spine.
“Jesus, fucking speed it up, Pete,” Harry snapped.
He had Pete’s arm slung around his shoulder. Pete was obviously the one Sacha had hit. A bloody, but not fatal, hit to his calf. It had bled through the hasty binding they’d fashioned out of part of a shirt.
“There’s a gun in the truck,” Pete panted. “Just leave me and go grab it.”
“Are you sure?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, I’d feel better—these woods are creepy as fuck, and whoever shot me could come back.”
“Alright, well, keep going—” Harry grabbed a large stick for Pete. “Use this.”
“Thanks, man.”
Harry took off through the trees at a jog.
Pete limped after him. I didn’t know how far the truck was, but I also knew Sacha had disabled it, so I wasn’t too worried about that.
I also knew, without Sacha having to tell me, that he’d most likely searched the truck.
There definitely wasn’t going to be any weapons for Harry to find.
I let Pete get a few hundred yards more down the trail and crept after him until I got bored of watching him struggle.
I aimed at the stick he was using as a crutch and pulled the trigger.
The stick broke in half, flew out of his hands and sent him sprawling.
He shrieked and scrambled towards a tree where he patted himself and tried to see if he’d been hit.
I pulled the trigger again; this time I aimed above his head.
He cursed and crawled back to the trail where he attempted to get to his feet.
He made it a few steps before he crashed back to the ground.
I stepped out of hiding and walked up behind him. My boot pressed down on his calf and he cried out. He begged and sobbed, his hands over his head, face buried in the dirt as he pleaded with me to spare him.
My lips twisted in disgust—this was who had scared me earlier? Pathetic.
“Oh, Pete,” I sighed and nudged the barrel of my gun against his back.
At my voice, he froze and peeked between his fingers. His entire demeanor changed.
“You!” He spat. “You bitch—”
I tsked and pressed my foot harder. His words broke off on a whimper, and he went still.
“Now, now—wasn’t it you who said we all need to have some manners?”
“Fuck you! Fuck—”
I shot him in the back of the thigh and he howled in pain. I cringed and shook my head.
“When I was little we had a swear jar,” I said. “Not for me—I was only ten—but, my dad had a terrible habit of cursing…anyway, every time you curse, I’m going to shoot you.”
“What the fuck? Crazy bitch—”
I raised my eyebrows and shot him twice more—one went into his knee and the other into his other thigh. Again, his screams filled the air and I stepped around him.
“We–we–were just–having–having some f-fun, girl,” Pete gasped.
I nodded like this was profound. “Fun.” I turned the word over. “Sure. Well, I think this is fun.”
I shot him again in the other knee. He screamed bloody murder. I crouched down near his head and pulled him up by the hair. His body shook as he tried to pull his injured legs up under himself.
“You’re right, Pete. Hearing someone scream is very satisfying.”
I shoved the barrel of the gun into his mouth and smirked when his eyes went wide.
“I’d love to hear all the different kinds of screams I could pull from you, but Harry and I have a date. Right about now, he’s probably finding out the truck doesn’t start.”
Pete must have been holding out hope that Harry was coming to save him because at those words, the fight left him.
He looked up with anger, but also the deep surrender of a man who knew he was dying, and was ready for it to all be over quickly.
I frowned—he didn’t deserve quick. I’d planned to stab him, but the look on his face made me pause.
I pulled the gun away and grabbed his wrist. I dragged him over to the nearest tree and brought his hand as high as it could go up the trunk.
“Wh–what are you—d-doing?” He whined and hissed in pain as his legs dragged uselessly across the ground. I stabbed the blade of one of my knives through his wrist, making sure to drive the blade in just the right place. His scream was hoarse and pathetic.
“Just making sure you can’t wander off,” I said. “Might use you for target practice later.”
I left Pete and continued on up the trail. I didn’t know where the access road was that they’d used, but Harry had left a good enough trail to follow. When I finally came upon the vehicle on an overgrown road, the sight of Harry stopped me cold.
I’d been blissfully locked away in a state where my fear couldn’t reach me, but now I felt it creep up my limbs, where it threatened to steal my resolve.
Harry wasn’t injured and the sight of the knife at his belt made my breath catch.
He had his rifle slung over his shoulder and even though I knew Sacha had most likely disabled it, it still sent a chill down my spine.
As I watched him, he casually leaned against his truck and lit a cigarette.
He didn’t look like he had any intention of returning to Pete, and for some reason that solidified something inside me.
Harry was just a man. He had stolen from me, but that didn’t mean he was all-powerful.
If anything, it made him predictable. And, predictable things could be defeated—predictable things could be killed. Most importantly, predictable things didn’t deserve my fear.
But, there was one thing he did deserve—my vengeance.
I raised my gun, sighted and pulled the trigger. The cigarette between his lips exploded. He threw himself back against the truck and cursed and fumbled with the rifle. When I stepped onto the road, Harry froze, then a smirk broke out across his face and he chuckled.
“Jesus, sweetheart, give a man a heart attack doing that—I’m glad you missed—”
“Who says I missed?” I growled. “And, I’m not your sweetheart.”
“Well now, I’ve had a taste of that sweet little cunt of yours so I think that entitles me—”
I pulled the trigger. This time I did miss, unintentionally shattering the glass of the truck window behind him. Harry cringed, but he quickly recovered.
“Ah, now, don’t be like that,” Harry smiled. “Why don’t you come with me, I’ll make it up to you?”
I tried to take a breath. I needed to remember I was in control, not him.
I scoffed. “You really think that’ll work?”
Harry shrugged and smirked. “Seems like me being your first time and all, you don’t really know any better do ya?”
That stung and I scowled. “Fuck you.”
His expression darkened and he raised the rifle as I circled the truck.
“That tight pussy—I want it wrapped around my cock again. Maybe I’ll fuck you hard enough to bleed a second time and we can pretend you’re still a—”
He pulled the trigger and his gun clicked.
His face went a comical shade of white and I lunged for him with a satisfied smirk.
Together we crashed to the ground and rolled through the underbrush on the side of the dirt road.
I collided with a tree hard enough that it knocked the breath out of me.
Before I could recover, Harry straddled my chest. He punched me twice in the face and stars erupted across my vision. I tasted blood.
His hands went around my neck—
My mind blanked and panic rose in its place.
No. Absolutely not.