Page 471 of Lessons in Cruelty

If anything, she’s speeding up.

It’s easy to follow her at first. She’s making such a fucking racket, she’s probably scared off all the wildlife by now.

But somehow, she slips away. The sound of her panting and her splashing feet draws further and further away.

The forest is fighting back. I’m having to find my way through the tangles of ferns and roots and what I hope to God isn’t poison ivy crawling over the ground.

My fawn’s nimble little legs are better suited to darting through this mess than I am.

But when I catch her—and I will catch her—I’ll make her regret even thinking she could run from me. I’ll have those pretty legs wrapped around my waist as I pin her to a tree and fuck her until she’s hoarse from begging for mercy.

I grit my teeth, push harder, but I’m failing to close the distance.

Losing her and my fucking hard on.

A loop of ivy snags my foot, and I faceplant in a bed of soggy moss.

Fuck!

Pain slices through my leg, my Brunellos torn by the rock that nearly eviscerated my fucking kneecap.

I scramble up, limping off one way, hesitating, turning the other way.

“Haven!” Her name tears out of my throat in a hoarse roar. “You can’t hide from me!”

I hold my heaving breath for a moment, straining to hear which direction Haven went.

But all I can hear is rain.

My fist slams into the nearest tree, and I equal parts relish and hate the sharp ache spearing up my arm. I’m seconds away from giving up and trying to find my way back to Greek Row when I hear a faint tinkle, like a fairy granting someone a wish.

Jesus, I’m losing my mind.

But I limp off in that direction anyway, because that’s better than just standing here. And thank God I listened to my gut, because I find Haven’s shoes a few minutes later.

I’m smirking as I pick them up and study them.

Does she know I’m on her trail?

My smirk melts away.

Or is she trying to throw me off track?

That’s when a glint of light catches my eye. At first, I think it’s just a reflection from somewhere outside the trees, like a distant street light or something.

Until I hobble closer.

The trees thin out, then stop.

It’s like I’ve stepped into a modern-day retelling of Hansel and Gretel.

The light I saw is a solar-powered spotlight aimed at the ground surrounding someone’s property.

That little fairy-tinkle? A dainty wind chime.

I keep to the edges of the pool of light, trying to blend with the shadows as I map out the area. Then, clenching my jaw, I risk leaving the trees.

The chances Haven didn’t end up here are slim.