Chapter Six: The Hunter's Game.
Jamie's POV
I don't know how many days I've been running.
Three? Four? My phone died the first night, and the sun just keeps coming up like it's mocking me.
My hoodie is shredded, my arms look like I lost a fight with a blender, and every step feels like knives in my ankle from when I fell two days ago.
I'm so thirsty my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and the last granola bar is a memory I cry about at night like a total loser.
I'm lost…Completely, stupidly lost.
Every tree looks the same. That crooked oak with the weird knot? I've seen it four times now.
I'm walking in circles and the forest knows it. It's laughing at me. I can feel it.
I'm gonna die out here.
I'm gonna collapse and rot and nobody will ever find me and Luther will just shrug and find another toy.
The thought makes me sob so hard I have to lean against a tree just to stay upright. My legs are jelly.
My head's spinning. I'm cold and hot at the same time and everything hurts.
Then I hear it.
Rustling.
Heavy.
Close.
My heart slams against my ribs so hard I swear it's gonna break something.
An animal? Water? A road? A person?
I don't care. I just need it to be anything but him.
I push through the bushes with the last strength I have left, branches clawing my face, and I stumble into a tiny clearing.
And freeze.
It's a bear.
A massive fucking black bear standing ten feet away sniffing the air like it just smelled lunch.
Me.
I'm lunch.
Our eyes lock.
It rises up on its hind legs and I swear it's taller than Luther. Its growl vibrates in my bones and every survival video I've ever seen flashes through my head at once.
Don't run don't run don't run.
I run.
I spin and sprint like hell, lungs burning, ankle screaming, branches whipping my face so hard I taste blood. I hear it behind me…crashing, snarling, way too fast.
I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die.
My foot catches a root.
I go down hard.
Something pops in my ankle and the pain is so big the world goes white.
I try to crawl. I can't. My leg won't move.
I roll over and the bear is already on me.
Its weight slams me into the dirt. Air gone. Can't breathe. Its breath is hot and rotten on my face.
Claws rip through my jacket and into my shoulder…fire, pure fire.
I scream.
Then its teeth sink into my side.
I feel it tear.
Everything goes red and quiet at the same time.
I'm dying.
I'm actually dying.
BANG!
The gunshot is so loud my ears ring.
The bear jerks hard. Hot blood sprays my face, my mouth, everywhere.
It collapses on me, dead weight crushing what's left of my ribs.
I can't move. Can't breathe. Everything's going dark at the edges.
The last thing I see is expensive leather boots stepping calmly through the ferns.
I know those boots.
I black out crying.
*****
I come to and the bear's gone.
I'm on the ground, shirt ripped off, Luther's huge hands pressing something against my side so hard I scream again.
"Shh, baby, I've got you. Stay with me."
His voice is soft. Gentle. Like the night he fucked me until I cried.
I hate how much I want to believe it.
Everything hurts. My shoulder is shredded. My side feels like it's on fire. Blood everywhere…mine, the bear's, I can't tell anymore.
He scoops me up like I weigh nothing and starts walking.
I'm shaking so bad my teeth chatter.
"You found me," I sob, stupid and broken. "You always find me."
He kisses my temple, lips warm against my cold skin.
"Of course I did, pretty boy. You're mine."
I cry harder.
He carries me for what feels like forever. My head lolls against his chest. I'm fading in and out.
I hear the cabin door. Smell woodsmoke. Feel soft sheets under me again.
He's stripping me, cleaning blood, stitching me up…I scream every time the needle goes in but he just shushes me and kisses my tears and tells me I'm being so good for him.
I hate that it works.
I hate that I cling to him while he does it.
When he's done he climbs into bed behind me, big body curling around my broken one, arms locked so tight I can't even twitch.
"You're safe," he whispers into my hair. "You're home."
I cry until I pass out again.
I don't know if it's from pain or relief.
I hate that I'm not sure which one I want it to be.