“Brandon isn’t coming tonight,” he taunts. “You get to suck my cock instead.”
Nausea surges. “I won’t. Stay away from me.”
Even though I’ve engaged in Brandon’s deviant games, we’ve never been together like that. He kisses me with harsh passion and touches me with possessive hands, but he looks at me with reverence, like I’m his own personal miracle.
The quiet, brooding boy who used to glower at me has become my closest confidante, my safe haven in the hell that is our home.
“It’s my turn,” Carter says, moonlight flashing on his dark brown eyes in a mocking glimmer. “Do you think he cares about you? As though Brandon Harcourt has ever given a fuck about anyone.” He barks a laugh. “You really did think you were special, didn’t you?”
“Don’t come any closer,” I warn, my hands curling to fists.
But despite my show of aggression, my heart cracks open in a painful rift.
I’ve been such an idiot. Brandon barely looks at me when we’re at home. And what have we really shared out here in the woods other than stolen kisses and harsh caresses?
I thought he cared.
But I was just deluding myself because I couldn’t bear for my love to be unrequited.
I’ve been alone since my parents died, and I’ve been acting like a foolish girl clinging to scraps of affection.
“This will be our little secret,” Carter drawls. “Well, ours and Brandon’s. Maybe next time, I’ll let him watch. He seems happy to share you.”
Carter takes a single, prowling step toward me. I unstick my feet from the grass, spin on my heel, and sprint into the woods.
His delighted laugh follows me, weaving through the trees to clutch at me—icy claws raking down the back of my neck.
My breath saws in and out of my throat, lungs burning. Fallen leaves and twigs crunch beneath Carter’s shoes behind me, far too close.
A scream tears from me.
“Karolina!” Brandon’s distant bellow draws a sob from my chest.
They’re both hunting me. The boy I love betrayed me.
A shadowy branch scores my cheek, and briars rip at my ankles.
I stumble at the stinging pain but quickly right myself.
Hide.
The woods are dark, but I recognize the narrow path I’ve raced down many times while I engaged in Brandon’s sick games.
My sneakers pound the earth, and I increase my speed in a burst of adrenaline.
The silhouette of the dilapidated stables looms before me.
They haven’t kept horses for years, but I know there’s a shotgun that our foster dad stores here for hunting.
I’m not a violent person, but I’ll defend myself.
I swallow and harden my resolve.
They willnotviolate me.
I no longer hear Carter’s footfalls behind me. I’ve managed to outrun him, but I’m not safe. He’ll find me eventually. He can probably guess which worn path I took through the woods.
I dart into the stables and make my way towards the old tack room where Charlie keeps his hunting gear. I have to get to the gun before the boys reach me.