Because, as much as this is adding to the excitement—a little uncertainty introduced by adding unpredictable third parties—I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to her, especially if it involves another man touching her.
If she hurts herself while running—sprains a joint or breaks a bone—I’ll be there to help her mend. I’ll patch her up and make her feel tenderness and love, like a malevolent knight in shining armor who is only soft for her. I won’t feel bad at all if she needs me like that.
But if someone else was to touch her? That would be no good. Even though I’ve put her in front of them like raw steak in front of a pack of starving hyenas.
Hopefully, I’ve made the right calculation here.
I start picking them off one by one, gunshots ringing out in the cool air of the Anything Goes.
The first man crumples to the ground. The others glance behind them, but it doesn’t deter them—only makes them run faster toward Ivy.
Not only do they want to ravage her body themselves, carrying out whatever grotesque fantasies they’ve conjured in their sick minds. They also know she’d sell for a good price—someone so gorgeous, so… marketable, in a place like this.
One gets close. She’s running so fast she doesn’t even notice his arm shoot out and come inches away from grabbing her.
Thank god, she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t hesitate, even as his gnarled fingers grope for her in the moonlit night.
I sprint now, reaching out and spinning the man around.
“What—” he cries out as I bring the barrel down hard against his forehead.
He lets out a strange noise, full of vowels, as his large body hurtles to the ground. He lands with a vicious thud, knee bending in a way that nobody’s ever should.
That leaves me and Ivy. And whatever—or whoever—is in the woods that sprawl out in front of her.
She continues running, straight ahead, never looking back.
And into the darkness beyond.
I smile to myself.
Good girl.
Let’s see how far my little poison makes it.
IVY
The sound of gunshots drives me forward.
I don’t have time to stop and see who’s causing them—of course, I hope it’s Soren taking down the guys who are chasing me.
But that seems surreal—like this entire situation.
When I told him I wanted to be chased, I had no idea he would take it to this level. I thought he might stalk me around the apartment, or maybe the nearby cemetery.
But to bring me to a neighborhood—the most dangerous one in this gritty city—and let me fend for myself while deranged men limped after me like something out of an explicit version ofThe Walking Dead? I didn’t see this coming.
The trees around me are mangled, sprawling, their dark roots twisting out of the ground like tripwires. It’s so dark, only illuminated by the light of the full moon.
Owls hoot from the shadows, and I can hear the distinctive rustle and barks of cicadas and other nocturnal insects angry at my disruption, warning their mates.
I crunch through the darkness. There’s no clear path here, no nice little hiking trail designed for families to feel like they’re being outdoorsy on the weekend. There’s no pattern to where I should go, no clues subconsciously edging me forward.
I shove through bushes and tree branches that jut out, trying to figure out the path of least resistance. My face and arms burnwith scratches, but I ignore the tingling of my skin as I continue to force my way through.
A branch cracks behind me. I pause, just long enough to try to figure out if it’s human or animal. The distinctive crunch of a boot with twigs underfoot crunches, only feet away. There’s a soft growl.
Fuck. That’s not Soren.