Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
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Ifight against the instinct to slow down, even though the pain in my leg screams at me to.
I try to keep my breath silent as I weave through the brush of the deep forest. Keeping off the trail is safer and avoids me getting caught, but as I try to convince myself, I know there’s only so many times I can lie to myself.
At least I have the flag, and I’m calling that a win, for now.
With the flag tucked in my back pocket, the urgency to run and hide is greater now.
I fight the rising tide of panic as I head deeper into the forest. At least I’m not cold anymore—that’s definitely a win, though I don’t know how long that will last unless I keep moving.
My jacket is back by the creek, hooked around branches I had no time or energy to try to remove from.
Once I find a decent hiding place, I know that’s when I’ll really feel the temperature drop.
I hobble faster and faster, hoping I can generate enough heat in my body to last me a while. I can already feel the sweat trickling between my tits, but it’s swiftly cooled by the air around me as I pick up speed.
My ears burn with the rush of blood pounding in them. I don’t know how much time has passed, and I daren’t look at my phone in case the light exposes my position. But I push on, desperate to create as much distance between myself and the voices I heard at the creek.
I don’t know who’s hunting me, but they’re obviously good. Fast, even.
Another scream tears through the silence, and then laughter ripples through the trees. Footsteps crunch over twigs and leaves from my right before three men wearing scream masks stalk past me.
I duck down behind a nearby bush just as the sight of thick, corded muscle and refined abs passes by me.
Confidence oozes from three perfect bodies; hard chests, and rippling backs that make me feel a little bit giddy as they carry a girl over their shoulder.
They don’t look my way, which is surprising since I’m out in the open.
The girl squeals as the man carrying her spanks her ass, but it’s not filled with fear as I expected. She’s kicking her legs, gripping the back of his jeans, but she’s not protesting. She’s… enjoying it.
My thoughts travel to the other girls. Who else has been caught? What’s in store for them?
Another question begs to be answered, intrigue being the driving force behind it: why are they here?
I know that Deadwood Hollow has its fair share of crime, but it’s all rumors and gossip.
The police do little to nothing when it comes to the goings on of this town.
Which is quite sad in reality, because what town hosts fucked up games of capture the flag with a bunch of clearly dangerous men?
What kind of fucked up game becomes more appealing than the idea of going to the police for help?
Obviously, the Midnight Run isn’t just for us to get revenge on the people who wronged us.
The men who chase and hunt us down are here for something else.
It’s crossed my mind that maybe these men created this game not just for the thrill but to even the score for those who can’t. Maybe every loss comes with a win?
I can’t imagine that any of these men would bat an eyelid to take someone out if it were requested. At least I hope so, because once I find the person or people who were involved in Beckett’s death, letting them walk away isn’t an option.
Whichever way you look at it, I think we all get something out of it. I haven’t yet worked out what that is, but if the masked men are anything to go by, I assume they’re faceless for a reason.
I ponder some more as I make my way through bushes, past more low branches and winding trails until I approach a thick, towering tree. Knots jut out all the way up the trunk, leading to strong branches that hang high in the canopy of leaves.
This will be a good place to hide, I’m certain of it. I’ll be out of sight, and I’m almost certain I’ll be able to rest and remain silent until dawn.
Securing the flag in my back pocket, I reach for the first two knots on the trunk, one at knee height, and the other just in reach if I stretch my arms out. It’s not going to be easy with my ankle, but I’m not one to give up at the first obstacle.
Twigs snap nearby. My pulse racing as I scramble for purchase on the tree.
I lock my fingers into the knot above my head, wedging my good foot into the one by my knee, and push up. It takes a lot of strength to get a couple of meters off the ground, but I reach the first branch and hook my arm around it, hoisting myself up.
Only my foot slips from beneath me, losing purchase instantly. My legs flail, and a cry escapes my throat as my right hand loses grasp on the branch. My heart pounds and my stomach bottoms out as I lose grip of the knot in my left hand, and a gasp escapes me as I plummet to the ground.
I can’t stop the scream that rips through me, my eyes closing as I anticipate the ground’s impact.
My back thuds against something hard, but it’s not the muddy earth that catches me.
“What do we have here?” a deep voice says.
“I think our Siren is in trouble,” another voice answers.
I open my eyes slowly, taking in the angry red glow of masks towering over me. My heart pounds like a drum, the beat threatening to explode through my chest.
Three men stare down at me, their bare chests still and perfectly sculpted, the shadows deepening every sharp edge of their bodies.
The one who caught me barely seems affected by my weight.
One arm is wrapped securely around my waist while the other hooks beneath my knees, holding me as though I weigh nothing at all.
The hard planes of his body radiate warmth through my T-shirt, his breathing steady and controlled, his heartbeat so calm against my side that it feels impossibly at odds with my own.
In any other circumstance, it could be perceived as romantic, but this fucked up game is anything but that.
For a second, I’m lost in the depths of his eyes, the darkness swallowing me whole. The crimson X splashed across the matte black mask frames them like a warning, drawing my attention straight to the darkness behind the lenses. They aren't cold, exactly. Nor are they cruel.
They're unreadable. Like staring into an abyss that quietly dares me to step closer.
“You almost had it,” the other—more playful voice—says over my shoulder.
He’s closer than I realize, his scent enveloping me all too quickly.
It’s a heady mix of sweat and cedar, something manly that teases the heat between my thighs.
He chuckles, a light sound that only makes my heart beat faster, harder than before.
“Almost.”