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"Perimeter?" I asked, suddenly very interested.
Bri winced and tilted her head to the side. "Didn’t actually get that far, but there was a fence or something. Metal, maybe twelve feet tall. It was still a solid two hundred yards away when I found mister douchebag. After I cut his foot off, he couldn’t run. Made it easy to question him. I asked what he’d done to get here?" She took another bite then kept talking with her mouth full. "Like did you fuck or kill kids? Rape some old ladies? Shit like that? Dude was screaming his guts out and yammering about his foot being gone. I took my time with him." She threw a dark glance at Payton. "Went ahead and got all my anger out. For now, at least."
Payton swallowed and gave her a slight nod. Hopefully she was telling the truth.
"How far did you run?" Drake asked. "You said you got far enough to see a fence. How far was that?"
Bri tilted her eyes to the ceiling, thinking, then said, "No clue really. Couldn’t track distance while I was running. Plus I only saw one side of the building. If I had to guess, it may have been—ah, shit."
Bri’s cuffed arm jerked and she tossed her pizza on the ground as she was shocked. Sam didn’t want too much info getting out. At least not until we’d all made our trip outside. The longer I lived here the more I could understand him. I didn’t know what that said for my mental health that the mind of a mad man made sense to me.
Bong. "Return to your rooms. Feel free to take your food."
"The fuck?" Payton muttered.
"Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth," I said, standing and grabbing my plate of pizza and brownies. "I’m getting tired of going to bed hungry. I’ve done that shit enough in my life."
The others did the same as I did, each grabbing their plates and walking out the door to head back to their rooms. I made it halfway down the hall when I realized I wasn’t limping. Fear, like cold water, trickled down my back. I’d forgotten to keep the act up. Sam had only given me two days to recover, which meant no matter what my time was up tomorrow. That didn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in. What if he’d noticed and realized I’d been milking it? Lying to him? How would he respond to that?
Chapter 8
DAHLIA
Something was wrong. Even before I opened my eyes, the sense of panic had already flooded me. I was not tucked neatly into the bed I’d gone to sleep in. There was a scratchy and prickly sensation all along my body. Opening my eyes, I discovered what it was. Grass. Grass, leaves, moss, and twigs. I was in a forest. The forest.
As I sat up, I looked toward the sky. Peering through the canopy above, I could see the sky was the inky black of night. The only light was a faint gray shimmer from the full moon. A shiver ran up my legs, and my grogginess vanished allowing me to realize that I had no clothes on. Buck naked minus a simple military style vest. The vest had a holster built in with a small pistol, and a sheath containing a knife.
My cuff buzzed, making me jump. A message appeared on the small screen:
Find your prey before it finds you. I assume your ankle will be fine for this task.
Fuck. Not good. I pulled my knees to my chest, rubbing at my thighs, trying to get the gooseflesh to go away. The entire time I stared into the forest around me, jumping at any sound that was out of place. It was like my body sat in a block of ice, frozen, unable to start. No one had been sent out at night before. Was this how he would try to kill me? I had to think this was not only part of my punishment for trying to escape, but also for lying about the severity of my ankle injury.
What was my prey? Was it one person? More than one? Hell, had he set a rabid fucking bear out here to deal with me? Anything was a possibility. I had to get moving though. I couldn’t do anything sitting here on my naked ass.
Standing, I brushed dirt and pine needles off my butt and thighs then checked my weapons. The knife slid out of the sheath and the stainless steel blade caught the light of the moon. In the darkness, it almost looked like a shard of ice. The wickedly sharp blade hissed as I slipped it back in.
The pistol was surprisingly heavy in my hand when I pulled it free. I had no clue how to use it. All I knew was that the barrel was the business end. I’d watched movies where people used guns like it was second nature, but had never really paid attention to the actual operation of them. Was the thing even loaded?
I pressed what looked like a button and the magazine slid out of the handle and thumped to the forest floor.
"Shit," I muttered and picked it back up.
Several failed tries later, I managed to get it back inside the gun and latched in place. Remembering a scene from an action movie, I grabbed the top of the gun and pulled it back. Part of the weapon slid backward toward me. I tugged harder until I heard a clicking sound and the piece wouldn't slide back anymore. I let go, and the metal slide slammed forward with startling speed. I yelped and flinched, accidentally pulling the trigger. The explosion that erupted from the gun along with the blinding flash made me shriek out a choked scream. The gun tumbled from my hand and fell onto a pile of pine needles.
A small hole sat in the trunk of the tree in front of me, a tiny wisp of smoke rising from where the bullet entered. If the person or people I hunted hadn’t known I was out here before, they probably did now. Idiot.
With shaking hands I picked the gun up again. Before I fully straightened, I received another message:
Your quarry has been armed as well. You seem very capable. It should make things more interesting.
The message vanished, replaced by something that made my blood run cold. An infinity symbol where the clock usually was. It reminded me of the watch Clint and Maria had given me. At the thought of Clint, my eyes ached and burned, ready to release tears. I swallowed hard and pushed the thoughts away. Mourning him wouldn’t help me out here. Not with an armed stranger in the woods with me. Hunting me. I didn’t even have any shoes. Sam really did want to kill me.
Behind me, more rustling leaves caused me to spin around, raising the gun, pointing it in the direction of the sounds. A moment later a fat racoon came waddling out of the underbrush. My finger twitched, a half second from pulling the trigger and blowing the poor, damned thing away. It glanced up and locked its eyes on me, seemed to judge me, found me wanting, and hustled away, wiggling its fat ass as it went.
A shaky sigh escaped my chest, and I lowered the gun. Starting my search, I picked a random direction and walked. Who or what Sam meant me to look for, I had no idea, but I had to move. Staying still was guaranteed to be dangerous.
Moving through the foliage and trees quickly banished the chill I’d had upon waking. Now the summer night was making me sweat. After an hour, rivulets of sweat had begun trickling from under my vest down my stomach. Without clothes, every bead of sweat that slipped down my legs and arms tickled like spiders crawling along my flesh. My ankle ached slightly, but not bad enough to make me wince.
