Page 53 of Property of Rattler

Run, Ames, run.

His final words echo in my head. Though I want to just drown in my misery, if Malachi finds me, he’ll kill me. Flynn’s sacrifice will all be in vain. The only thing I can do to honour his last request is to do exactly what he said.

I’m doing this for you, Flynn.

With an agonised howl, I get to my feet, turn and run, trying to keep going in a straight line in the direction he’d pointed out.Even when the trail disappears, I still head up, lungs heaving, trying to orient myself when my way is blocked by trees. When my breathing gets too laboured, I stop, resting my hands on my knees, drawing the ever-thinning oxygen into my tortured lungs. A glance at my smart watch shows I’ve gained seven hundred feet, and that I’ve been running for about forty minutes.

Oblivious to the dangers around me, once I’ve caught my breath, I continue as best as I’m able, slowing to a hiking speed when the incline gets too steep, and in places, crawling up on my hands and knees. When it levels out a little, my feet pound the ground. I barely feel the undergrowth tearing at the bare skin on my legs. Another break, another check, and now I’ve climbed fifteen hundred feet since leaving the cabin. But I’ve no idea how much further there is to go.

My quads and glutes are killing me, and despite my urgency, I slow. Frustration makes me scream. I don’t know if I’ve gotten turned around, or even if I am heading the right way, or whether I’m going at an expected speed. What if I do reach the road, and there’s no one waiting for me?

Keep running, don’t stop.It’s almost as if Flynn’s in my mind, talking to me.He’s dead.The realisation starts me sobbing again, and I start to sink to the ground, but pull myself up at the last minute.He died giving me a chance to be free.I force myself to resume moving.

Another half hour and my watch tells me I’ve now ascended two thousand feet, but finally I seem to have come to the top. I’m out of breath, sobbing uncontrollably. But I stumble on. The going is easier as I’m heading down, though the trees and undergrowth still try to impede my way. Now it’s my calf muscles and hamstrings that start protesting as they come into play from my constant braking in an effort to stay in control. I lose it at one point, my legs flying out from under me. Someone must be watching out for me, as I’m able to stop my tumble, mypride injured more than any part of my body. I start descending again, this time, a little more carefully.

Much sooner than I expected, a break in the trees allows me to see the road. I’d neglected to realise that, as it looped around, going up the mountain, the downward journey would be shorter than my ascent.

But there’s no vehicle waiting for me. I reach the edge of the pavement and fall to my knees.

I’m alive, Flynn’s presumably dead. And I’ve taken so long, they’ve given up on me. It’s taken me nearly three hours to traverse five miles of steep terrain. Of course, no one would still be hanging around. Opening my mouth, I let a frustrated scream escape. Then I lose it completely as grief overwhelms me.

I sit huddled with my head on my knees, sobbing uncontrollably.Flynn’s gone.And I’ve no idea what’s going to happen to me. Whether from dehydration or just the natural order of things, but gradually, no more tears flow. Malachi won’t stop coming. Am I just going to sit here and let him win? Flynn wouldn’t have wanted that for me.

But what do I do now?I’m too tired to walk back down the road toward the cabin, and too scared to see what I might find there. I don’t know if I can cope with seeing Flynn’s dead body, doubting I would survive that reality.

An engine sounds. I stand warily.Friend or foe?Should I hide? But a glance behind shows it’s a long way to retreat to the safety of the tree line, and I just don’t think I’ve got it in me.If it’s Malachi, I’m as good as dead.Even so, I’ve got no energy left to run anymore. The adrenaline that had fired me has gone.

Around the bend, a black SUV appears, driving slowly.It’s him. He’s found me.I shake uncontrollably as it stops next to me. I don’t even lift my face, knowing what fate lies in store.

Then a man steps out of the vehicle. “Ames?” His gentle voice has me raising my head.

Air rushes out of me. It’s the prospect who’d stocked up the cabin. Summoning the last of my energy, I stand fast, almost tumbling over my feet, as I close the distance between us.

“Flynn?” I scream at him. “Is he okay?” Then, at his look of bemusement, realise he probably only knows him by his club name. “Rattler? Is he alive?” I steel myself for the news that he’s dead. There’s no way he could have survived. There were too many against him.

But all he does is shake his head. “I don’t know. My orders are to get you to the clubhouse.” His eyes scan my body. “Fuck, girl. You’re a sorry mess.”

His pronouncement makes me look down at my body. I’m covered in dirt, and blood streaks my legs. Touching my forehead, I feel a lump and the wetness suggesting I’m bleeding, which must be a result of my fall. But my minor injuries fade into insignificance when I think about what must have happened to Flynn.

I’m safe. I’m alive. But it doesn’t feel like anything to celebrate.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

AMES

The prospect hurries me to the truck and helps me into the seat. I barely notice as he reaches over to fasten the seatbelt, which I’m incapable of doing myself. The numbness that had accompanied me during my flight across the mountain leaves me like a wave retreating from the shore, and my grief overwhelms me like the tide coming in. I start to shake, as sobs again tear through me as I try to compute I’ll never see Flynn again.

I’m barely conscious of the journey back to the clubhouse, just grateful that I’m allowed to wallow in my despair, trying to cope with the realisation that if it wasn’t for me, Flynn would never have been there, he wouldn’t have been exposed to my brother. It shouldn’t have been him who died. It should have been me. By involving the Kings, I’ve put far too many people in danger. My life isn’t worth theirs.

When we enter Gravity, I have an impulse to open the door and throw myself out. I don’t want to hear the confirmation that Flynn has died, though realistically, I know there’s no way he could have survived.

On the edge of my consciousness, I realise we’ve reached our destination. The gates open automatically, and the prospect waves at a man who looks like his twin as we drive through. I’m sore, exhausted, and just want somewhere to go where I can be alone and give into my sorrow, but as the truck pulls to a halt, I see there’s a reception waiting.

The first man to the truck is Stalker. “Thank fuck you’re alive.” His pronouncement is heartfelt. Then, he grimaces as he gets a look at me and shouts to someone behind him. “Short, is Bronwyn here?”

One of the tallest men I’ve ever seen in my life shakes his head. “Nah, she’s at the hospital. Is it an emergency?”

Turning back to me, Stalker asks, “Anything broken?”