NIGHTSHADE #2
Fingers grab my hair, tangling at the roots before wrenching me upright with a viscous unforgiving yank.
A sharp cry tears from my throat, pain exploding along my scalp as my head snaps back. White-hot, searing through every nerve. My knees barely hold me, my body screaming in protest, but the grip in my hair doesn’t falter.
A low chuckle hums in my ear, dark and amused. “Looks like we found you.” The words slither down my spine, slick with something cold and hungry. “Can’t wait to have our fun first, though.”
A rush of ice floods my veins.
No.
My body reacts, and instincts override my pain. I twist, lashing out, but I might as well be fighting through water. My movements are slow and uncoordinated. He laughs again, tightening his grip, yanking me closer until I can feel his breath against my cheek.
I will not die like this.
Fight.
The whisper slithers through the chaos, slipping beneath the raw terror clawing at my mind. A voice I haven’t heard since Nveri.
I slam my elbow into his ribs with everything I have left.
It’s not much, but it’s enough to make him grunt.
His grip doesn’t break, so I twist again, my nail raking across any part of him I can reach.
His grip loosens just a fraction of a second, but it's all I need.
I try to slip free, my body twisting in desperation.
“Bitch,” he spits.
I don’t wait.
I turn, a breath from running, when the crack of gunfire splits the night.
The pain is immediate. A fire that tears through my arm, and my vision swims, black creeping in at the edges.
The storm rages around me, the wind like a thousand icy knives slicing into my skin.
Blood soaks through my sleeve, thick and warm, clinging to my arm like tar.
Just get to the trees.
The thought anchors me, the only solid thing in the chaos swallowing me whole.
Behind me, I hear a voice–angry and vicious. “Stupid bitch!”
Another gunshot.
A scream wrenches from my throat as I lurch forward, my legs nearly giving out beneath me. The ground tilts, but I don’t stop. I can’t. I have to keep moving.
Thunder splits the sky wide open, a deafening crack that shakes the earth. Rain hammers down, relentless and blinding, turning the world into a drowning blur. Water slams into my face and into my eyes, burning like ice.
Another gunshot–closer this time.
Then, something slams into me from behind, knocking the breath from my lungs. The world flips. Sky, ground, sky again. My body crashes into the earth, pain detonating through my ribs, my spine, and my skull. The air vanishes from my lungs in a brutal, strangled gasp.
Hot breath ghosts against my ear, thick with the scent of sweat and something rancid, seeping into my lungs like poison.
“Where are you running off to?” The voice sneers, coated with amusement, but there’s something else lurking beneath it. Something colder.
The weight pressing me into the ground is suffocating, pinning my limbs beneath him like dead weight. My breath comes in shallow, frantic bursts, my body caught between exhaustion and terror. Fingers dig into my skin, bruising, his lips hovering too close.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice thick with mockery. “We won’t hurt you… too much.”
My pulse hammers and my body locks up for a single, breathless moment. Fear is a slow death, Raven. My grandfather’s words cut through the panic clawing at my chest. Pain is a lesson. Use it.
Panic ignites something wild inside me. I twist, ignoring the fire in my muscles, forcing my arm free. With every last ounce of strength I have left, I drive my elbow back–hard.
Bone meets bone and I hear the sickening crunch. His grunt of pain is a jagged, furious thing.
His grip loosens just enough. But that’s all I need.
I rip free, scrambling to my feet. My body screams in protest, the wound in my arm blazing as my vision swims at the edges. My breath is ragged but I do not fall.
He staggers back, but not for long.
Fury twists his face into something else, his rage spilling over, snapping free like a beast finally off its leash.
“You little—” he snarls and lunges, his rage snapping free like an unchained beast.
I step back, raising my hands, my smirk razor sharp despite the exhaustion dragging at my limbs. Let him be angry. Let him be reckless. “Aw, did that hurt?” My voice comes out a little breathless. “My bad. Maybe next time, that’ll teach you to get consent.”
The fury in his eyes burns hotter, turning into something deadly. He moves faster this time, barreling toward me, his intent clear.
CRACK.
Lightning rips through the sky, blinding and violent. For a single, suspended heartbeat, the world turns white.
I see his face, frozen in wide-eyed terror, the light swallowing his hesitation whole. Then the electricity engulfs him, a blinding arc of raw power.
I don’t stop to see what happens next. I run.
Rain slams down in sheets, drowning out everything–gunshots, shouting, the frantic pounding of my own heart. I push forward, mud slick beneath my feet, my body screaming in protest, but I don’t stop.
The tree line is just ahead, and I run into it, the shadows swallowing me whole.
Branches lash at my skin, tearing at my clothes.
The wind howls through the trees, screaming in my ears.
The rain is relentless, turning the world into a blurred, shifting void, making every step treacherous.
My lungs burn, my veins are on fire and my body pulses with fresh agony. I want to stop, but I can’t.
Not yet.
Only when I’m sure I’ve gone far enough do I risk stopping.
I press my back against the rough trunk of an ancient tree, its bark is solid beneath my fingertips, an anchor to reality. My body trembles, but I force myself to lower, crouching against the roots, pulling my knees in tight.
One hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my breaths, silencing the terror clawing its way up my throat. My ears strain against the storm, searching for any sign of movement. Footsteps. Voices. Anything.
Every nerve in my body remains on edge, stretched so thin I feel like I might snap.
My muscles are rigid with adrenaline, trembling with the effort to stay still.
Pain pulses through my arm in sharp, unforgiving waves, the bullet wound is a searing ache that refuses to be ignored.
My sleeve is soaked, whether from blood or rain, I can’t tell anymore.
My entire body is wrecked, not just from the crash or the fight, but from everything that happened since the diner.
And to top it all off, my phone is gone. Not that it would have helped, considering it was dead before any of this started.
A bitter laugh threatens to slip free, but I choke it down, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes. Hold it together. I will not break here. Not now. Not when I still have a chance to get out of this.
But my body has other ideas.
The adrenaline that’s kept me moving and alive, is wearing off. Fast.
A strange, creeping cold seeps into my limbs.
My fingers tingle, my legs feel numb, and the fire in my arm dulls–not in relief, but in a way that feels wrong.
Too much blood loss maybe? The storm rages on, but everything around me starts to feel distant, as if I’m slipping away, the sounds are muffled, my vision is starting to blur at the edges.
I was supposed to be on vacation. I was supposed to be living a normal life, exploring Scotland, drinking too much tea, making bad decisions that didn’t involve running for my life.
But then came the dreams. The journal. The flickering lights.
The magic I still don’t fully understand. And now? Now I’m being hunted?
A shuddering breath escapes before I can stop it. My fingers drag down my face, damp with sweat, rain, blood, and who knows what else. I barely register the single tear that slips past my defenses before I swipe it away.
Not yet.
The air around me feels heavier, the weight of the storm pressing against my skin, humming with energy. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, swallowed by darkness. Minutes? Hours?
My heartbeat stumbles. The trees blur.
No.
I try to move, but my limbs won’t cooperate. The darkness pressing at the edges of my vision inches closer. My body feels disconnected and weightless. Somewhere in the haze, I know what’s happening.
I’m in shock, and I’ve lost a lot of blood.
I blink, my eyelids are heavy, my body is so cold. I need to get up. I need to move.
I don’t.
The last thing I register is the storm whispering through the trees, the rain tapping against my skin before darkness takes me whole.