29. Kill you
Kill you
"You stupid fucking bitch."
The man bit out the words through bloodied teeth, his fist twisted into the back of Josie's coat.
The collar cinched so tightly against her throat that every breath came thin and ragged as he dragged her deeper into the woods.
Each time she managed to plant her feet, he jerked hard enough to send her stumbling again, branches tearing at her face while her boots snagged on exposed roots hidden beneath the snow.
Cold seeped into the cuffs of her pants and soaked through her gloves as she clawed at anything within reach—a sapling, a low branch, a fistful of frozen earth—anything that might slow him down or leave a sign for liz to follow.
"Let me go!" she screamed.
He yanked her backward so violently her teeth snapped together. "Shut the fuck up."
"Fuck you!"
She twisted in his grip and kicked blindly, her heel connecting somewhere near his knee.
He grunted, his hold slipping enough for Josie to surge forward—two steps, three, freedom opening ahead of her—before his hand tangled in her hair.
Pain exploded across her scalp as he ripped her back.
Her scream tore through the trees a heartbeat before he threw her into one.
Her shoulder struck first, then her head, and white light burst across her vision.
For several seconds the entire forest tilted while blood pooled copper-bright on her tongue.
Even drowning in terror, her medical mind cataloged the damage with cold efficiency: possible concussion, bruised ribs, shoulder still functional, no obvious fractures.
Stay awake. Stay moving. Don't let him take you farther.
The man wiped blood from beneath his nose—the nose she'd broken in the barn—and studied the red smear coating his glove before lifting his eyes to her. Something in his expression shifted. The anger drained away, replaced by something that turned her blood to ice.
"You know..." He took a step toward her. "I'm going to kill you."
Josie's heartbeat slammed against her ribs as she backed away, retreating until her shoulder met unyielding bark. Nowhere left to go.
"But you've been such a pain in my ass." His gaze crawled over her, and her stomach heaved. "I think I'll have a little fun first. Want a taste." His smile widened. "Then I'll put you out of your misery."
She screamed and launched herself at him, fingernails raking across his ruined face. He howled, and she drove her knee upward with everything she had left. The moment he doubled over, Josie ran.
She didn't look back. Didn't think. Didn't plan. Branches whipped across her cheeks, her lungs burned and her damaged ribs shrieked in protest with every breath, but she kept moving even as his enraged roar chased her through the trees.
"You fucking bitch!"
His footsteps pounded through the snow behind her—too close, closing fast—and Josie pushed harder, her mind echoing one name in rhythm with her feet. Layla. Another step. Layla. Another. Get home. Get back to her.
She cleared a fallen tree, nearly going down on the far side when her ankle rolled, pain lancing up her leg.
She stumbled, recovered, and kept running until his weight slammed into her from behind, driving her into the ground and emptying her lungs.
Snow filled her mouth. Her hands flew instinctively toward weapons she no longer carried, and her mind scrambled for anything else. Think. Think.
He grabbed her ankle. Josie kicked wildly, her heel catching his cheek. He swore and lunged forward, she rolled. His hand closed around her coat, tearing the fabric away in his fist. She seized a handful of snow and dirt, hurling it directly into his eyes.
He screamed. She scrambled backward on her hands, her fingers striking something hard and solid beneath the snow. A rock. Josie closed both hands around it as he pawed furiously at his face.
"I'm going to fucking kill you."
She rose unsteadily, blood trickling from her temple, her torn coat hanging from one shoulder, her entire body trembling with cold, adrenaline, and rage. She raised the rock anyway.
"Then you're going to have to fucking work for it."
He charged. Josie swung, and the rock connected with the side of his head with a sickening crack that sent him staggering. She swung again, but this time he caught her wrist, crushing her fingers until the rock dropped into the snow. His other hand closed around her throat.
Josie clawed at his fingers as pressure built behind her eyes and her lungs screamed for air.
His face blurred above her. No. No. She couldn't die here, not with Layla waiting, not like this.
Her knee came up one final time, and though he twisted away from the worst of it, his grip loosened enough.
Josie tore free and stumbled backward, dragging in one ragged breath, then another, while he recovered and reached for her again.
And that's when she heard it.
Faint. Far behind them. A branch snapping somewhere in the darkness.
The man froze. Josie froze. For one terrible second, neither of them moved, and his head turned toward the sound.
"What the fuck was that?"
Another sound followed, closer now—someone crashing through the woods, moving fast. His attention shifted away from her for only a second.
Josie stared toward the dark trees beyond him.
She had no way of knowing who approached but somewhere beneath the terror, beneath the pain, beneath the growing certainty that she might die in these woods, hope flickered to life.
So Josie did the only thing she could.
She screamed.
“HELP ME!"
The raw, desperate cry echoed, and she screamed again, pouring every last bit of her remaining strength into the sound.
Seth's blood turned to ice. Josie.
He abandoned the trail without hesitation, branches whipping his face as he ran toward the sound. His boots tore through knee-deep snow, his lungs burning in the frigid air, but he pushed harder.
"JOSIE!"
Another shout reached him through the trees—then silence, which frightened him more.
"Josie!"
He crashed through a wall of young pines and saw them: two figures, tangled in the gloom. One had her. His rifle at his shoulder in an instant, the world snapping into focus through the optic. He froze.
The bastard dragged her backward against his chest, one arm locked across her upper body, the other holding a knife against her throat.
Seth went completely still.
Josie looked like hell, but the fury in her posture he saw first. Her coat torn and blood streaked her face, but she was on her feet, still fighting. She was alive.
Her eyes found his, and the change in her face nearly destroyed him. Relief—pure, overwhelming relief—flooded her expression.
"Seth."
His name escaped her like a broken breath, and for half a second everything else disappeared. The realization written across her face hit him square in the chest: he'd come back. He'd come back for her.
"Don't move," Seth said, his voice a flat, cold line. Calm. Cold. Controlled. The rifle never wavered from the man's head.
The stranger gave a breathless laugh. “Don’t be a hero.” He pressed the blade tighter against Josie's throat until a tiny bead of blood welled beneath the edge.
Seth's finger settled against the trigger. "Easy."
"Drop the gun."
"No."
The man blinked, clearly expecting a different answer. "I'll fucking gut her."
"No, you won't."
"You think I'm kidding?"
"I think you want to live."
The man barked a wild laugh, his arm tightening around Josie. "Go on and try. You'll hit her before you ever hit me."
Seth didn't answer. Through the optic he could see everything—the sweat beading at the man's temple despite the cold, the blood dried beneath his broken nose, the slight tremor in the hand holding the knife. And Josie, whose eyes never left his.
"You hear me?" The man's breathing quickened when Seth's silence stretched on. "Put the fucking rifle down!"
Nothing.
"More are coming anyway."
That caught Seth's attention—not enough to move the rifle, just enough to listen. The man's grin widened when he sensed the shift.
"Yeah. You thought I came alone?" His words tumbled out now, desperate and fast. "We've been watching you. More of us—way more. We know everything. The ranch, your trucks, all of it."
A cold dread settled deep in Seth's stomach as Josie's eyes widened, her focus shifting from their captor to a memory. A flicker of understanding passed between them. The stranger from the trees. The watcher. He hadn't stumbled upon them.
"Don't do something stupid." The man's voice cracked, pressing the knife harder. "Shoot, you might hit her. You want that?"
Seth's breathing slowed. In. Out. The world narrowed to essentials: wind through pine needles, snow drifting between them, the man's pulse jumping in his neck, and Josie's face. Nothing else mattered.
"You don't want her blood on your hands."
Seth ignored him, eyes locked onto Josie's. Her fear gave way to a sudden stillness. She'd seen this look on him—that absolute, unwavering focus that shut out everything but the target. She understood this was no longer a negotiation. It was a countdown.
Seth adjusted his aim a fraction. Josie's gaze flickered toward the rifle, then back to his face. He gave the smallest, barely perceptible nod. Her expression shifted—she understood—and then something else moved through her expression that still hit him hard to think about.
She was ready.
The man noticed none of it, still talking. "Put it down. I'm warning you—"
Josie inhaled. Seth watched her shoulders rise. One breath. Two.
Then she went completely limp, her knees buckling, her entire weight dropping without warning.
"What the—"
The man's arm jerked downward instinctively as she slipped from his grip. For one fraction of a second, his head hung completely exposed.
Seth squeezed the trigger.
The rifle cracked through the forest. The man collapsed. Josie hit the snow beneath him and immediately rolled clear.
The shot's echo cannoned through the trees, fading into a ringing quiet. Seth kept the rifle shouldered, watching the still form, waiting until the last vibration of violence had settled. Only then did he lower the weapon.
Josie pushed herself onto trembling hands, her eyes finding his across the frozen ground. The silence stretched, brittle and loud. Then he moved, closing the distance, his heart hammering with a violence that surpassed the fight itself.
Josie stared up at him, breathing hard. "You..." She glanced toward the body, then back at him, her voice shaking with a sound caught between disbelief and laughter. "You're here. You're actually here, you came back.”
Seth stopped in front of her, the rifle hanging loose at his side, his pale eyes holding hers.
"Yes." A beat. "I had to."
Josie's face crumpled. She launched herself at him, and Seth caught her against his chest without hesitation, his arms wrapping around her as though he could shield her from everything that had already happened. Her arms locked around his neck as the first sob tore free.
"I thought you left."
His eyes closed. He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in, holding her tighter against him. "I did but then I realized it was the stupidest thing thing I had ever done so I turned around and came back.”
She pulled back enough to look at him, confusion breaking through her tears. Seth cupped the back of her head with a gentleness that contradicted everything his hands had done.
His voice broke, raw in a way he hadn't allowed anyone to hear in years. "I got halfway through one fucking day and realized I couldn't do it. Couldn't leave. Couldn't stop thinking about you."
Josie stared at him, her fingers curling into the front of his coat as if to anchor herself. The world narrowed to the space between their faces, the cold air, and the sudden, terrifying clarity in her own chest.
The man's body lay cooling in the snow. His warning—that more were coming—hung in the air between them. Josie felt a cold dread beneath the relief, but for one impossible second, it was noise.
Seth pressed his forehead against hers, his thumb tracing along her jaw, careful of the bruises darkening her skin. Her breath mingled with his in the cold air.
"I'm here," he whispered.
And this time, he wasn't leaving her behind.