Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
My feet sink into the sand as I set off in a run, going after her. There’s a spear on the ground, and I bend and reach down to swipe it up. My father taught me how to use guns and knives, but I don’t know anything about fighting with spears. It’s pretty self-explanatory, though: Stick the pointy end into the bad guys.
I reel backward, the spear flying from my hand. Something powerful pulls on my midsection, the air in my lungs whooshing out in a rush. I’m lightheaded, fumbling my hands around my chest to figure out where I’m hit.
“Relax,” a deep male voice says from behind me. “I won’t hurt you. I’m here to protect you.”
My fingers find a rope. I’ve been lassoed, like a fucking farm animal. My arms are locked at my sides, immobilizing me. I turn and lunge toward my attacker, planning to headbutt him. He reacts quickly, putting a palm out to absorb the impact. My head throbs from the force of the hit, and his hand doesn’t even move.
“You’re okay.”
I scowl at him. He looks about my age, his wavy, shoulder-length brown hair and lean, muscular build making him look more like a surfer here to catch waves than a warrior capturing prisoners.
“I know this is a shit show, but the Dust Walkers will kill you. I’m saving you.”
“I didn’t ask to be saved,” I snap. “Leave me alone.”
His expression softens. “You can’t survive alone here. If we don’t take you with us, the Dust Walkers will chase you into the jungle and kill you.”
“You’re the one who just tied me up.”
A smile plays on his lips. “I get it. But you’ll be untied when you get back to our camp. I swear, this is for your own good.”
“And I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t let me go.”
It’s an empty threat from a helpless woman, once again tied up and unable to defend myself. And my throat is so dry and sore I can hardly talk. When I try to lunge at my captor, a wave of dizziness makes my world spin. I fall to my knees instead.
“She’s probably got heat exhaustion,” a female voice calls. “Let’s go!”
My captor bends down beside me. “My name’s Pax. What’s yours?”
“Eat shit.”
He chuckles lightly and scoops me up with hands beneath my back and knees. My resistance is weak, my arms leaden.
“You can’t keep up with us in your state. Try to relax. We’re going to take care of you.”
Nausea hits like a tidal wave, making me cringe and curl into myself. I’m drenched with sweat and on the edge of passing out. As much as I want to argue with him, it takes all my energy just to breathe.
“Good. Try to relax. The worst is behind you, I promise.”
I don’t believe him, but I’m too drained to fight anymore. I got minimal food and water in prison, and I’m still groggy from whatever the guards used to knock us out.
Fighting is all I have left, though. Every day, I silently consider all the ways I can make Lochlan pay for what he’s done to me. It’s been my driving force since the day his soldiers captured me at the market.
These people who are taking me back to their camp aren’t my enemies. Lochlan is. I have to rest up, gather my strength, and come up with a new plan. I’ll find a way to get home and look him in the eye one last time—as I’m ramming a dagger into his chest.
3
It’s working. God help us all.
- Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Randall McClain
I wake with a jolt, the thick air carrying the earthy scent of decaying vegetation. Pain spikes through my head, but I shove it aside, writhing to escape my captor’s hold.
He smiles at me, amused. “Easy, tiger. You’re not in the best shape. Thought you might’ve passed out on me.”
“Put me down.”
“We’re almost home.”
“It’s not my home, asshole. It’s yours. I’m your prisoner.”
I claw at his hands, desperate. There’s a chance I can escape one person. But a whole camp of them? That’ll be much harder.
“Yeah, we’re the worst. We save people’s lives. Feed them and give them a place to stay. Monsters, aren’t we?”
The tsunami of pain in my head is crushing me beneath its weight. It’s debilitating. If I got free, I couldn’t outrun him like this. I stop struggling, hoping he means it about feeding me. I’m weak with hunger and thirst.
“Do you have any water?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’ve got a canteen in my pack.”
It’s too bad my pride isn’t ice cold and refreshing, because it’s the only thing I’ve swallowed in a while.
“I’d...really appreciate some water.”
“So you can play nice.” He stops and sets me down, removing his lasso from around my body and arching his brows in a look of warning. “Don’t. Run.”