Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Just a little further.” Bentley creeps up the ledge towards me.
I glance behind me at the five hundred foot–or more–drop. “No.” I plant my feet. “You're not going to make me toss myself over the edge. You’ll have to knife me.”
“So be it.” He takes another step forward, and despite myself, I scoot an inch back.
“So that’s your plan? You’re just going to knife me? How is that going to look like an accident?”
“I’ll push you over the edge. Maybe I'll just leave your body, and no one will find you.'' He sounds uncertain.
“What if I'm not dead?” I cross my arms over my chest, then rethink the position and put my arms out for balance, taking frequent, dizzying glances down at the five hundred foot fall. “What if I just break all my arms and legs?”
“Oh, you'll die,” he says. “I'll make sure of it.”
“You're going to climb down and bash my head in?” I don’t know what’s more offensive. That he’s trying to murder me, or that he’s doing it badly.
Bentley’s face is getting redder by the second. “This is just like you,” he grits out. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”
“That's not fair,” I shoot back. “I've been nothing but accommodating.”
“I’m not giving up half of my inheritance. It was my Dad’s money to start with. You and your mom were just riding his coattails. Besides, both our parents knew you were the stupid one–”
“If I'm so stupid, why are you the one who's doing such a bad job of trying to kill me? Why am I a CEO?” I shout over the wind. The gust tugs on my braids, and more pebbles roll over the edge. A strong enough gust, and I’ll topple over with them.
It's now or never.
I'm going to have to throw myself toward Bentley and see if I can rush past him. Then I'm going to have to outrun him all the way to the rental car.
God, I hate running. I do not have a body that is built to run. I have a body that was built to lounge beautifully on a divan. And to swim. I love to swim.
I fake left, then dash right, but Bentley blocks me. The knife is between us, pointy side up. Not good.
Other than the unnatural flush staining his cheeks, Bentley’s face is horribly pale. His eyes are wide and staring, the whites flashing as if he’s more frightened than I am. Is that why he was anxious and sweaty this whole hike? He was plotting to kill me?
I make a break for it, and when Bentley thrusts, I smash his knife hand with the urn. He yelps and drops the weapon but grabs me with his free hand. We both grapple with each other–him trying to haul me off balance, me trying to push him away.
He really is going to push me over the edge. I let my body grow heavy and fall to the ground, dragging him with me. Except now I’m lying in shards of the urn. And Bentley’s closer to the knife.
Moving more quickly than I thought possible, he snatches up the wicked-looking weapon and brandishes it. I put up a hand as if my empty palm can stop him, and try to scramble to my feet, but it’s too late. He’s almost on me–
A roar blasts over us, and a dark shape crashes out of the trees. The ground shakes, and I lose my balance. For a few awful seconds, I teeter on the edge.
I throw myself forward, careening down the ledge towards safety. Toward Bentley and the knife. I nearly became a pink smear at the base of a scenic overlook, but that’s the least of my problems.
A freaking monster just ran out of the woods. Brown fur, black snout, long teeth. All my wildlife expertise comes from watching animal videos on Tiktok, but I know a bear when I see one. A bad bear.
He's freaking huge, big as a car. Not a little car, either. An SUV. The ground thunders under his paws as he races toward us. His open mouth is bigger than my head, ready to eat me and Bentley in one bite.
Now would be a good time to remember what to do when faced with an attacking bear. Run? Play dead? Scream my head off and hope someone comes to help?
Bentley is already doing that–his scream high and shrill and loud as a chorus of teenage girls at a K-pop concert, tinged with terror instead of adoration. He drops the knife. It bounces off the boulder and wedges between two rocks. In his haste to escape, he shoves me, and I fall. Not all the way down–just a few feet. The world tilts, the trees and sky spin around me. My forehead smashes into something and light bursts behind my eyes.