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Railing behind her and blocking her way to the car.
She’s hemmed in.
Trapped.
Advancing another step, I raise my axe, the sharp blade now clearly visible to her. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
My question hangs in the cool night air, filling the little space between us, and I move closer, the porch boards creaking under my weight.
The trespasser squawks and turns around, throwing her leg over the railing at a speed I hadn’t anticipated.
What the hell?
Her sudden movement stalls me in place for a moment, and she tumbles down on the other side of the beams, landing on her ass in the muddy grass next to the house.
I charge across the porch toward where she just climbed over, and she manages to scramble to her feet, quickly scanning around her. Her emerald eyes land on her car, but all it will take is one leap over this railing for me to intercept her if she flees that way.
And she knows it.
The wheels churn behind her frenzied gaze as she tries to work out any sort of plan.
I’ve seen that look before.
Many times.
On countless faces.
Right before they paid the price…
She glances down at her bare feet, then at the surrounding woods, muttering something I can’t quite hear under her breath before she takes off toward them.
Fucking hell.
Whoever she is, she’s made a big mistake coming here and an even bigger one going out there.
Clenching the axe in one hand, I grab the edge of the railing and vault over it, landing my boots with a thud in the exact spot she just stood. The little nuisance I certainly don’t have the time or patience for disappears between the trees, heading deeper into dense foliage and rough terrain.
I peer back at her heels haphazardly strewn on the porch, one stiletto still wedged in the thin slot between the boards.
She isn’t getting far barefoot out there—not unless she has a strong fucking will and very thick skin. Which seems unlikely, given the way she looks and her reaction to me.
This should be easy, then.
The hunter in me sneers in dissatisfaction at not getting a real chase, for not being offered a challenge, but the sooner I can get this woman off the mountain, the better it will be for both of us.
But I have to know who she is and why she came here first.
Who sent you, little doe?
I take off after her, stepping between the trees that bracketed her flight, easily following her path, even in the almost complete darkness created by the high canopy blocking out the moonlight.
Every branch.
Every leaf.
Every fallen log.
I know these woods and this mountain better than I know myself, and this woman clearly has no fucking idea what she’s doing or who she’s tangling with.
