Kade (Axel Wulf #5)

Prologue

Briana Gainsborough

Three days ago

The Navy gave us basic survival training—for water, not while hunted by a forest lunatic.

“This is not right. Not right at all.” Closer now, the killer's raspy voice crackles through the woods.

As a sliver of ice runs down my spine, I cling to the rough trunk of a tall maple. Holding my breath, limbs aching, I dig in my fingertips.

Please, God. I fed starving kids—remember? If He’s there, He gives no sign. Above me, infinite black. Below? Only death.

Bark wedged under my nails, I tuck tighter into the canopy, every nerve vibrating on edge. If he glances up, his rifle won’t miss. While twigs crunch, night critters scatter. He squats directly beneath me, fingers hovering over the footprints I’d brushed clean only moments ago.

Eyes transfixed, I hold my breath as his flashlight’s beam darts across the underbrush. Circling all around, it lands on the pine boughs to my left.

Oh crap. Still muttering, he straightens, scratches his head, then focuses on a noise in the distance.

Yesss. He’s leaving. I made it. My relief is so immense, it sends a signal to my stomach. In the hush of the night, the grumble sounds more like a bullfrog.

Freezing, the mumbler tilts his head upward, his split grin curdling my blood. Slow and deliberate, he lifts his weapon.

Channeling my inner flying squirrel, I launch—legs outstretched, teeth clenched. Either my boots hit their mark, or I die.