Chapter 37
Piper
Iam not an athletic person.
If I had any doubt before, I definitely don’t anymore as I stumble through the forest, wheezing and clutching at the stabbing stitch in my side.
I’m sure if it were Quill, he’d have no problem getting away.
But I’m panting so hard everyone around must hear, and I’m so focused on running I don’t even think of the massive trail I’m leaving behind that would easily allow anyone to follow me if they so chose.
And why the hell wouldn’t they choose? Why the fuck did Liam tell me to run? Why would he of all people want to save me?
He shouldn’t even be here. Logan had told us he and Dane were being kept at a secure location, until Quill returned to finish what he’d started.
And yet now, he’s free, and helping me. What the absolute fuck?
All those thoughts run through my mind distractedly, squeezing through the cracks of my focus on getting away, until at last, my strength gives out, and I bend over, clutching my knees to try to get my breath.
I’ve heard all sorts of stories about what people are capable of doing when they’re running on adrenaline.
Lifting cars, making coffee and watering plants despite bleeding out from stab wounds, walking for days through a jungle after having survived a plane crash.
Adrenaline allows me to… run just a little faster than usual.
Fuck me. I’m so tired, so sweaty and achy, I’d almost welcome death. I know it’s going to happen anyway. Just get it over with.
A sudden gunshot rips through the air and I mouth a soundless scream then bound forward, a new surge of adrenaline hitting my veins, but I trip on the roots of a tree. I fall to the ground, and something sharp slices through my knee.
I try to scramble up again, but whatever it was must have hacked clean through several layers of skin. I glance down and see the puddle of blood mingling with the dirt on the ground. Beneath my knee is a broken bottle.
Well, shit. I’m in a practically untouched forest, but it just so happened I fell on the one piece of trash for miles around.
I guess it makes sense, given my kind of luck, that this is how I die. Not in a bad-ass, shot-in-the-head kind of scenario, but in an accidentally-tripped-and-fell-on-a-glass-bottle-and-then-bled-out-slowly scenario.
Another gunshot in the air and I struggle to a crawling position.
I grab the broken bottle, pulling it out of my knee before remembering too late from a first-aid class I once took that doing so creates a second exit wound.
Oh, well. Too late. I keep the bottle in hand, holding onto some desperate, stupid hope that I could use it as a weapon, as I start crawling on hands and one knee through the shrubbery, not daring to look behind me.
Yet another shot, and the explanation to all of this suddenly hits me like a punch to the stomach. Liam wasn’t trying to save me by telling me to run.
They’re hunting. I’m their animal, their prey, their amusement. And they’re fucking hunting me.
Tears sting my eyes as I half-crawl, half-drag my lower body further into the forest, looking desperately for a place to hide. I can’t hope to outrun them now. Not that I ever could. The only thing I can possibly do is try to hide.
Fuck. I should have climbed a tree while I was still uninjured, rather than run through the forest like a maniac. Now, with my bleeding knee, there’s just no way I could manage it. If I even could have managed it to begin with.
I continue to crawl, my heart racing harder than ever as I hear light footsteps behind me. This is even worse than thinking I was going to die while crouching to pee earlier. I’m literally reduced to crawling like a rodent while they hunt me. It’s fucking humiliating.
With that thought, the rest of my energy gives out.
I don’t want to die, but I can’t access the will to live.
I stop crawling and lean against a tree, breathing hard.
Another shot tells me they’re getting closer.
For the moment, they’re not shooting to kill.
Just shooting to remind me of what they’re doing. What I am to them. A game. A prey.
I manage to turn my head toward the sound of the shot, but I don’t see anything yet. They’re probably disappointed that I’m making this so easy for them. They’re probably hanging back just to give themselves the illusion that it’s hard, because what’s the fun of winning a game this fast?
I press the back of my head against the bark of the tree, trying to make peace with what’s about to happen. It’s hard to do that. It’s hard to do anything but wait, numb and exhausted.
And then I see it.
The hiding place.
A massive tree, just a few feet away, a deep cavity in its trunk, seems to beckon to me.
It’s pointless, I know. They’re going to find me anyway. But it’s the one hope I have. Digging into the deepest part of myself to find my last particle of energy, I lunge forward just as yet more gunshots ring out, crawling toward the cavity.
Then I sag against the bark, so exhausted, scared and in pain that I can only wait as the tears stream uncontrollably down my face. I hold the broken bottle limply in my hand, knowing very well I could never use it.
Footsteps crunch toward me, increasingly louder, and I don’t even need to look up to see him standing before me. Coltello. He’s found me.
“Thought you could run away, eh? Thought you could escape my soldiers? I got news for you, Aurora. No one can ever escape me. Now think your last thought and get ready to die.”
He pulls out his gun, trains the barrel toward me, and his finger finds the trigger.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to find a good last thought to think, but my mind comes up blank at first. Then I inexplicably think of that time I tried to surprise Dad with homemade pizza for his birthday, and accidentally started a small fire.
Only to discover after the fact, while bemoaning the charred pizza, that I’d seasoned it with sugar instead of salt.
“Well, pumpkin,” he’d said, “look on the bright side. At least I don’t have to eat sweet pizza and pretend to like it.”
Dad. The memory of him is like a punch to my gut. I wonder if Heaven exists. I wonder if I’ll see him again.
The gunshot I’ve been waiting for cleaves through the air, abruptly drawing me from the bittersweet memory. My entire body goes numb, I lose the ability to breathe, it feels like I’m being plunged into icy water.
Is this how it feels like to die?
Why am I still here?
Where’s the pain? Don’t you feel pain when you die?
I bring a trembling hand to my head, but there’s no wound there. Nothing on the rest of me either. What the fuck?
At last, I manage to open my eyes again and stop in frozen shock. Coltello is still standing towering over me, looking just as surprised as me. His gun is still pointing at me, and then, a little trickle of blood escapes his mouth, before he suddenly crashes backward in a thundering noise.
Behind him is the man who shot. Or rather, the soldier. And beside him is a second soldier.
They both whip off their masks, and I stifle a scream when I look upon the faces of my two rapists.
There isn’t anywhere to go, and even if there was, I couldn’t move with my bleeding knee and my extreme exhaustion. All I can do is cringe backward into the tree as they walk slowly toward me.
“Fuck! Stay away! Stay away from me!” I threaten them with the broken bottle, but they don’t pay attention. In fact, as they close the distance between us, Dane reaches out and takes it from my hand. I can’t even muster up the slightest resistance.
What’s going on? Why did they kill the man whose orders they were following just a little while ago? Why are they saving me, the girl whose life they previously destroyed without a moment of hesitation?
No, they can’t be saving me. Fuck. What if they’re planning to do it again? I can’t handle that. I just can’t.
The silent tears streaming down my face turn into loud, terrified sobs as they crouch before me. I hide my face in my hands, as if shielding my eyes can possibly change this reality.
“Don’t be scared. We won’t hurt you.”
I keep my hands firmly glued to my face, unable to look at the faces of the monsters in front of me. Unable to believe they’re capable of anything but cruelty.
“We’re here to save you.”
Bull fucking shit.
“Let us tend to your wound.”
I feel a sudden touch to my knee, and manage to jerk it back, hissing in pain.
“Fuck you,” I manage at last. “Fuck you. Just do whatever you’re going to do already.”
“We’re not going to do anything,” says Dane quietly, “other than help you.”
“I don’t fucking believe it. You raped me. You destroyed my life. You were following Coltello, who wants me dead.”
“We killed Coltello,” replies Liam. “We’re on your side.”
“Stop lying!”
I’m shivering frantically, unable to resist as Dane grabs my leg again, takes off his scarf, and rolls it around it firmly, like a tourniquet, to stop the bleeding. The pressure against the wound does feel good, and I breathe out a shuddering sigh, the pain ebbing.
“We’re here to save you,” repeats Liam. “I know you don’t believe us. But maybe you’ll believe the fact that we don’t give a shit about you.”
Yes. Infinitely more believable. I allow myself to relax just a tiny bit, latching onto the first sensible thing he’s said. They don’t care about me. But they do want to save me. It doesn’t make sense, but I begin to accept that they’re not lying.
“Then why are you helping me?” I sob out.
“Because we need to figure out a way to not die ourselves,” says Liam.
“Right. You just killed a fucking crime boss. Not sure how that translates to you not dying.”
“We killed a guy who’s trying to become a crime boss,” corrects Dane. “Not that there couldn’t be repercussions. But those repercussions don’t scare us as much as—”