Page 108 of Savage Surrender

His face changes but it’s not fear I see there. It’s pure hatred. If they get their hands on me...

I don’t wait for him to reach through again.

The ground slopes beneath the brush. I half run, half slide until I hit another narrow path and turn toward the sound of the surf. Going through the trees should bring me out on the beach closer to the house. I can circle back without crossing another cart lane.

A branch catches my hair. I rip free, leaving strands behind, and keep going.

The roar of the waves grows until I can’t hear them anymore. This private stretch of beach is empty. No families. No rental chairs. No one close enough to stop them.

The red flag above the access snaps so hard the rope knocks against the pole.

I turn in the direction of the house.

The golf cart rolls out from a farther path and stops across the access ahead of me. Hunting Cap jumps down and starts across the sand. Behind me, the man with the bleeding hand comes through the path I used. The one I stabbed limps over the dune between them, one leg dragging and his pants dark to the knee.

The house is too far, and I’m exhausted.

I tighten my grip on the knife and back toward the water.

“You have a debt to pay,” Hunting Cap says. “And you’re coming with us.”

“You’re not my type.”

The man I stabbed bares his teeth. He looks worse than he did in the alley.

Wet sand gives beneath my heels. Cold water rushes around my ankles and pulls away again, dragging sand from under my feet. The three men spread across the beach, leaving enough room between them to make me choose which one gets to grab me.

None. I choose none.

Hunting Cap lunges first. I throw a fistful of wet sand into his face, duck under his arm, and cut across the outside of his forearm when he swings back. He bellows and catches a handful of my shirt. The fabric yanks tight beneath my armpit. I turn into him instead of away and drive my knee between his legs.

His grip loosens. I wrench free, but the man behind me gets his hand into my hair.

My head snaps back, and tears flood my eyes. He pulls me against his chest. Hot breath hits my cheek.

“They deserved to die,” I grit out. “And so do you.”

He roars and tries to drag me up the beach.

I drop with the next wave. My scalp burns as hair tears free, but his fingers slide, and the water hits him, knocking him off balance. He stumbles and I shove the knife in his direction. It catches in fabric but the next wave knocks us apart, and the handle twists out of my hand.

I reach for it, but the knife flashes once beneath the foam and then it’s gone.

So is the man who had his hand in my hair.

My knee is aching. I make it two limping steps before the one in the cap comes after me, one arm bleeding and his face streaked with wet sand.

The water reaches my thighs, then my waist.

“Get back here.”

I push off and swim deeper before he can touch me.

Cold closes over my shoulders, stealing the heat from my skin so fast my chest locks. I come up beyond the first break and drag in air.

He wades in and then dives when the water reaches his waist, swimming hard toward me. Another one runs down the beach trying to get ahead of where the water is carrying me.

Then someone shouts. Not at me this time.