Timber (Hades Book 4)

by Tate James

  Berating myself mentally for being so damn weak, I took deep breaths and forced some calm while the blood returned to my head and the fuzziness cleared. Then I refocused on my goal. Getting free.

  The process of climbing the tree was agony and took so long that I could swear Chase would find me any second. But he didn't, even after I made the reckless crossover to the next tree. Then the next. Then the next. I was so damn slow. Time still held no real meaning, though. So it could have been hours since I’d escaped his house or just minutes. Based on how slow my movements were, I'd hedge my bets on hours.

  When I'd made it only about fifty yards away from where my trail had ended, I had to admit defeat and drop back to the forest floor where the going was considerably easier. I'd have to hope that gap would be enough to lose him, at least temporarily.

  "Shit," I breathed to myself as I checked my wrist. The fabric I'd cut from the bed was soaked through, and blood was running down my arm as I held it to my chest. If I didn't make it to medical attention soon, this whole escape plan would be for nothing. I was bleeding out.

  My feet burned as I stumbled through the forest with no real direction. I was weak enough, injured enough, that my coordination was severely impaired. I kept tripping on shit and bumping into trees. My sole focus was on following the sound of running water because that was my best bet at hiding my trail.

  Then a sound behind me made me drop behind a boulder like a puppet with cut strings. I held my breath, my ears straining.

  Just when I thought I'd imagined it, the sound echoed through the darkness again. Breaking twigs.

  I swallowed hard and frantically tried to calm my racing heart. I was in no condition to outrun him, and I sure as fuck wasn't winning in a fight. My absolute best bet was to lay low. Hold still and silent and pray that the darkness would conceal me until he passed right by.

  "Come out, come out, little rabbit," he called out in a sing-song voice. "I know you're close. I can practically smell your fear."

  More slow, deliberate footsteps and crunching twigs. He was so goddamn close I was surprised he couldn't hear my racing heartbeat.

  "I knew you couldn't resist the lure of freedom," he chuckled, stepping closer still. By my guess he was only twenty or thirty feet away. Far too close for me to make a run for it. "I have to say, Darling, you got out a whole lot faster than I expected. I'm impressed." He clapped slowly, and I stiffened against the shudder that ran through me. Sick fuck had wanted me to run.

  I kept my mouth shut, though. Not a single sound left my lips as I huddled behind the boulder. Silently I prayed to gods I didn't believe in, begging for Chase to keep going and pass me by.

  For the longest time, there was total silence in the forest. Total, eerie silence. Then the unmistakable slide and clunk of a shotgun being loaded.

  "You wanna do this the hard way, huh?" Chase called out into the night. "So be it! I'm going to shoot your sexy legs out from under you, then fuck your ass raw while you bleed out in the dirt."

  He fired off a shot, and I flinched. The sound of it was damn near deafening, but I didn't move from my hiding place. His shot hadn't hit anywhere near me, anyway, so hopefully he was looking in the wrong direction.

  The running water that I'd been following sounded so close; I must almost be there. If I could only get a moment's distraction... just enough to sneak away and hide my trail in the water...

  "What the fuck?" Chase muttered the comment under his breath, sounding like he was almost on top of me. He was confused about something.

  It took me a few moments longer, but then I heard it too. The faint whirring of an engine in the distance. But there were no roads leading to Chase's house. Were there? Maybe I'd just overlooked one... except Chase clearly wasn't expecting visitors.

  He grunted another curse and took a few strides away from my hiding place—enough that I risked peeking around the boulder, still hoping the darkness of the night would conceal me from his gaze.

  Chase was about fifteen feet away, his shotgun resting on his shoulder as he scowled down at his phone screen. The light from his device illuminated his face, which told me that whatever that sound was, it was wrinkling his plans.

  Good.

  The sound grew louder, and Chase looked up to the sky. I did the same, realizing it wasn't a vehicle approaching. It was a helicopter.

  "What the fuck?" Chase hissed again, still with his head tilted up to the sky.

  That was my opportunity, I knew it. He was distracted, there was noise... if that wasn't my chance to escape, I didn't know what else I was waiting for.

  Biting down on my cheek to steel myself against the pain, I pushed to a crouch, then as quietly as I could, started moving away from Chase.

  My pulse raced so hard I couldn't tell the sound of the helicopter nearing from my own heart, but a few steps later, my nerve snapped and I broke into a run. The motion or maybe the sound alerted Chase, and a shot rang out to my right. Splinters of tree bark sprayed at me as I ran, but I didn't slow. Now, more than ever, I was running for my life.

  Strength wasn't on my side, though. No matter how badly I wanted to survive, I was still only human. Barefoot, basically naked, malnourished, weak, drug-damaged, and bleeding, I was no fucking match for Chase and he knew it. His laughter echoed through the night as he pursued me at a leisurely pace.

  I stumbled my way through the darkness, my heart in my throat, bracing against a flinch with every shot he fired off. He wasn't trying to hit me—yet. He just wanted to scare me. Right as the river came into view, I tripped on a tree root and ate dirt as I crashed to the ground.

  Chase didn't pounce on me. He just casually strolled closer as I scrambled to find my feet. But it was like they no longer wanted to obey me. Like the second I'd hit the ground my whole body had shut down, every last ounce of strength depleted.

  Nope. No way. I was not going out like this.

  A pained, primal scream wrenched from my throat as I dug deeper. I staggered to my feet, threw myself forward, and used gravity to my advantage as I continued toward the rushing river. It wasn't even all that wide and probably not overly deep, so what the fuck was my plan once I got there? I didn't have one. But the alternative was to roll over and give up.

  Hell no.

  Chase increased his pace, closed the gap between us, and reached out to snag the back of my stolen coat. I'd anticipated it, though, and slithered free of the fabric. The sudden lack of a person inside the garment made Chase jerk off balance and fall on his ass, but I just pushed on. When I reached the edge of the river, I simply collapsed into the water and let the current carry me for a moment, weightless.

  My cold fingers still clutched the knife, managing to keep hold of it through the coat sleeves. So when a strong hand gripped my hair and yanked me out of the water, I lashed out.

  As the blade sliced through the flesh of his side, Chase gave a shout, releasing me in surprise, and I instantly plunged back into the water. Not out of choice, simply because my legs had stopped working.

  The current pulled me, finding no resistance, and swept me quickly out of Chase's reach while I fought to simply stay conscious and hold my damn breath. Imagine if I escaped all Chase's torture and drowned after the fact.

  Every time the river tossed me, pushing my face above the water, I gasped another breath. Otherwise, I just let myself go limp and free, allowing the river to take me wherever the fuck it pleased. Far too soon, though, the water pushed me to a point of the river where it was too shallow for me to keep being carried, and I reluctantly pushed myself to hands and knees in the sand.

  "Did you have a nice swim, Darling?" Chase called out, his voice booming through the night air and sending a wave of terror down my exhausted spine.

  I swept my soaking hair from my face with a trembling hand and spotted him on the far bank of the river. He must have kept pace as the water carried me, but now it was too deep in the center, and too wide, and too strong for him to risk crossing it right then and there.r />
  It wouldn't hold him for long, though. We both knew it. So with weak, jelly-like limbs, I staggered out of the water, flipped Chase my middle finger, and hauled ass into the trees before he changed his mind and decided to shoot me.

  The cold from the water had given a welcome numbness to all the aches of my body, and I could barely feel the cuts in my wrist anymore. Which, a fuzzy part of my brain told me, was probably not a good thing. But it was also not a good thing to be caught and dragged back to Chase's little cell of torture. I bit my cheek and lifted my bleeding wrist back to my chest as I continued aimlessly through the forest.

  It was only a few minutes later—I think—that my vision danced with black spots and my knees gave out midstride. I crumpled, but didn't hit the ground.

  Strong arms caught me, crushing me tight against a hard body and making me cry out in pain. It was enough to shock me back awake, though, so I wasn't totally mad about it.

  "Quiet," my savior hissed, clapping a hand over my mouth as he lifted me in his arms and started running. A hundred times faster than I'd managed since breaking free, the world whipped past my face as I inhaled the smoky, rich smell of man-sweat, gunpowder, and Zed.

  Zed. He'd come for me.

  Tears heated my eyes, sliding down my face as waves upon waves of relief, anger, fear, frustration, and heartbreak wracked through me.

  I twisted my head, pushing his hand away from my mouth. But before I could do something stupid, like tell him to take his lying, treacherous hands the fuck off me, he grunted in pain and stumbled. His grip on me didn't falter, though, holding me tight to his chest as he regained his balance and pushed on. Shouts echoed after us, but I couldn't make out the words. All I could focus on was the pounding of Zed's feet on the forest floor, the rough pants of his breath, and the steady, comforting thump of his heart under my cheek.

  Zed had come for me.

  "Fuck," he cursed when more shouts followed us. Chase. How the hell had he caught up? He must have found a point to cross the river. The fact that he wasn't shooting suggested he'd had to ditch his shotgun to swim across, so that was something.

  "Dare, baby," Zed muttered between breaths, "I'm going to put you down, and I need you to run, do you understand me? You need to fucking run until you're safe. Clear?"

  No. Not clear. Not even close to clear. But he gave me no time to disagree, swinging me down out of his arms and placing my damaged feet on the ground.

  "Run!" he barked, spinning back around and catching Chase off-guard with a vicious right hook.

  I couldn't run, but I did my best. Staggering and stumbling, I pushed myself forward in the direction Zed had urged me. My blood rushed so hard in my head it deafened me, muting the sounds of fighting behind me and making it hard to focus on anything.

  Then I realized it wasn't in my head. The deafening sound was from the helicopter hovering above us. As I stared up, dumbstruck, a rope uncoiled from the hovering chopper. Bright spotlights lit the forest floor where the rope extended, and I pushed myself harder to get there. Surely this was the safety Zed was talking about. If not... well that'd be some shitty luck.

  Just thirty feet to go.

  One foot after another.

  Left. Right. Left. Right.

  Stumble.

  Stinging pain zapped up my leg as my knee hit a rock, and I gasped.

  "Come on!" I yelled at myself.

  Twenty feet.

  Fifteen.

  Ten.

  My foot snagged on a root, and I tumbled forward with a cry of desperation.

  Zed caught me again, his sprinting momentum sweeping me up in his arms as he threw himself at the rescue sling that the helicopter had dropped.

  The strap hit me in the diaphragm, knocking all breath clean out of my lungs as Zed's body blanketed me. Protecting me.

  Then... nothing but darkness.

  6

  Fragments of shouting voices filtered through my consciousness, but they were muffled and static-filled. Roaring white noise filled my whole head, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't open my eyes. I couldn't raise a hand or even move. Fuck. Fuck. I was strapped down to something.

  Panic clawed at my throat, but before I could scream, I slipped back into unconsciousness.

  The next time I woke, I sat up with a gasp, that same panic still coursing through my veins.

  "Hayden," a soft voice exclaimed. That wasn't Chase. Wait. Was that...

  "Lucas?" I croaked, rubbing my eyes and squinting in the dark room. Several things became clear immediately. One, I was in a bed. Unrestrained. Two, while it was dark, it wasn't the oppressive, suffocating darkness of my cell. Light filtered in from the ajar door to the hall, and the curtains were open to allow moonlight in.

  Three. Lucas was here with me.

  "Yeah, babe, it's me," he breathed, reaching out for me. Without meaning to, I flinched away before his hands could reach me, and he froze. "Shit. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have..." He swept his hand through his hair, the movement just visible in the moonlight.

  "Can you turn a light on?" I asked, hating how small and weak I sounded. How scared I sounded, even to my own ears.

  Lucas didn't question me, though. He just reached over and flicked on the small bedside lamp closest to where he sat beside the bed. Then he clasped his hands on the mattress in front of him and bit the edge of his lip, his eyes drinking me in. Every visible cut, scrape, bruise, and burn seemed to be catalogued as he stared silently, and I ducked my eyes away from the intensity of his expression.

  That was when I noticed the IV line hooked to my other arm.

  Terror spiked, and I drew a sharp breath through my nose, my eyes darting up to the bags I was hooked to.

  "What are you giving me?" I demanded, panic flooding my voice. One of the bags was almost empty, and what remained was an ominous, dark-colored fluid.

  "Blood," Lucas replied quickly, spreading his hands flat on the mattress like he was fighting his need to touch me. "Mostly blood. We've also given you a dose of antibiotics and attached you to a morphine drip."

  I said nothing in response, too busy fighting with my inner trauma to speak. It took everything I had not to rip the IV line out of my arm in sheer terror, believing there was more. Maybe this was another PCP induced delusion.

  "Who's we?" I asked in a thick voice when I managed to tear my panic-stricken eyes from the needle piercing my arm. "Why blood? I'm..." I gave a small shake of my head. It was fuzzy, but I had no pain. That must be the morphine at play. Despite knowing I needed to steer well clear of narcotics right now, the break from constant pain was a welcome relief. I could detox when I'd regained some strength. Unless this wasn't real...

  Lucas was talking, but I hadn't been listening. "...not sure how long you'd been bleeding. Figured we didn't want to take the risk. Hayden, you're in really bad shape." His voice cracked slightly, and my heart ached.

  The last time I'd seen him, I was being arrested by stupid, tits-for-brains Jeanette and Lucas was finding out just what a shitty excuse for a girlfriend I was.

  "Lucas," I whispered, sagging back into the pillows. I simply lacked the strength to stay upright any longer. "I'm so sorry."

  His brows hitched in surprise. "For what? You didn't ask for any of this. If—"

  "No, not... I'm sorry for not telling you that I killed your father. That was a shitty thing for me to hide." My voice was rough and scratchy. Unsurprising, given how badly abused my vocal cords must be.

  Lucas stared at me in shock for a moment, then swiped a hand over his face and gave a small laugh of disbelief. "Hayden... that man wasn't my father. I was raised by a single mom, and she's the only parent I've ever had. Brant Wilson was little more than a mysterious sperm donor, and if you killed him, then I'm sure he deserved it. I don't give two fucks about that; I was just hurt that you hadn't told me about it."

  Ugh. He had a valid point. It’d been a dick move on my part not telling him the second I’d connected the dots. I was just so used to taking care
of everything myself and not trusting anyone other than Zed.

  And look where that’d gotten me.

  I blinked slowly, trying to gather my thoughts.

  "Where are we?" I mumbled, looking at the room again. It was well-decorated, comfortable, but somewhat impersonal, like it was a vacation house or something. A long yawn filled my lungs, and my eyelids drooped.

  Lucas leaned in close but didn't touch me. He just laid his head on his hands and gazed at me with worried eyes. "We're safe, Hayden. Doc and Maria are on their way back with Cass now. They'll want to check you out properly, so just rest until they get here."

  Confusion swept through me, and I frowned. "Doc's not here? Who hooked all this up?"

  Lucas flashed a grin. "I did. With some videocall guidance from him. Most of the supplies were in the medical kit Cass tossed in the helicopter, which was lucky."

  I gave a vague nod, my body demanding more sleep. But something was nagging at my mind now that I’d realized we weren't in a hospital.

  "The blood?" I mumbled. "You had O negative in the supply kit?"

  The look on Lucas's face slipped to something more troubled as he shook his head. "We weren't that prepared. Luckily, though—"

  "Zed," I mumbled, already knowing what he was going to say. Zed and I were both O negative, and while we could donate to anyone, we could only receive O negative blood. We always joked that it might come in handy one day.

  My eyes drifted shut. I didn't have the energy to unpack all my feelings surrounding Zed right now. Giving me a pint of blood was probably the least he could do.

  "Yeah," Lucas whispered. "Fucking idiot probably should have told us he had a knife lodged in his side before I took his blood, though." My lids snapped open once more, but Lucas just shook his head. "Don't worry, he's fine. Alive, anyway. Go to sleep, Hayden. I'm not going anywhere."

  With that reassurance, I let my eyes drift closed once more. As sleep pulled me back under, Lucas's soft whispers of safety lulled me into a sense of peacefulness that I'd never known existed.