Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Lark’s eyes meet mine, full of desperation and a spark of something that looks like hope. She nods quickly, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “Yes…but he’ll find me,” she chokes out, her voice cracking with fear.
I step closer, my movements slow and deliberate. “Not if I get you out of here,” I vow, my voice rough with intensity. “I know these woods better than anyone. I can keep you safe, but you have to trust me.”
For the first time, something shifts in her expression. She takes a tentative step toward me, her eyes searching mine as if trying to find some truth there. “You’d do that for me?” she asks, disbelief heavy in her voice.
I extend my hand, palm up, a silent offer. “Come with me, Lark. I promise you’ll be safe.”
There’s a moment of hesitation, then she takes a deep breath and places her small, trembling hand in mine. The warmth of her skin sends a jolt through me, but I don’t let it show. I squeeze her hand gently, then she lets my hand drop.
“I can’t. He’ll find me.” Tears well in her gorgeous green eyes.
Before I have a chance to convince her to stay with me, she turns on her heel and heads in the direction of the thick woods at the edge of the clearing. “Wait!” I yell at her back. “You can find me at Devil’s Peak Lodge, it’s about fifteen miles straight East of where we are right now. Follow the river, day or night–find me and I’ll make sure he never hurts you again.”
She reaches the treeline and looks back over her shoulder, sadness covering her sweet features. She’s so beautiful and so broken it nearly breaks me wide open.
Then she turns back to the woods and vanishes without another word.
And that’s when I know that I have to do something. I won’t sleep until I know this woman is safe. I’ll kill anyone that tries to hurt her.
Chapter Two
Lark
The chill of the night air bites into my skin, seeping through the thin fabric of my dress as I stare out the dirty window. Shadows twist and shift outside, making the darkness feel alive, like a predator waiting to pounce. Cyrus’s snores echo through the cabin, low and guttural, breaking the stillness in harsh bursts. For the first time today, I have a moment of calm—but my nerves are still frayed, my mind racing with fear. Bruises decorate my skin, a reminder of the pain this man inflicts on me on the daily. I think back to the day he picked me up on the side of the road, just me and a duffel as I hitchhiked out of town to escape a family that only took from me. Cyrus’ smile was kind, understanding, something like empathy warming his eyes as he listened to my sad story. But the further we drove out of town, the harder his gaze became. I blink away the pain of my first few nights in Cyrus’ cabin, shackled to his bed in an effort to break my will and make sure I didn’t leave while he passed out on the couch after chugging whiskey all night.
A soft, rhythmic tapping against the windowpane suddenly breaks the silence and jolts me from my memories. My heart lurches, and I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. I turn slowly, every muscle taut with dread, and peer through the glass. There’s a figure outside, obscured by shadows. My pulse spikes, panic rising fast and sharp, until I recognize the dark, piercing eyes looking back at me.
The man from the woods. The man that made me hope for just a moment that I might have a chance of a life off of this mountain, until the realization dawned that Cyrus would find me if I left. He would always find me. And besides, where would I go? I have no home to return to, no one missing me or thinking about me. I’ve been left to survive on my own and surviving doesn’t look the same from everyone.
Relief floods through me at the thought that the mountain man from earlier came back for me, followed quickly by a new surge of fear. My gaze darts to Cyrus, still sprawled on the couch, a bottle of whiskey dangling from his hand. He’s oblivious, but that could change in an instant.
I move slowly to the front door, my movements silent and cautious. My hands tremble as I reach for the lock, the click unnaturally loud in the oppressive stillness. I crack the door open just enough to see his rugged face, his eyes blazing with urgency.
“Let’s go,” he whispers, his voice rough but steady. “Now.”
My pulse thunders in my ears as I hesitate, torn between the overwhelming desire for freedom and the paralyzing fear that Cyrus will wake.