Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
I stop just long enough to get my shoes off, but it’s long enough for Kyle to emerge from the mouth of the cellar.
“Right there! They’re right there!” one guy yells.
Heels clutched in one hand, I take off running and try to catch up with the guy in the mask.
The grass is easy to run on, but as we near the woods, there are sticks and pinecones on the ground. They hurt my feet, and my lungs already burn.
Behind us, I hear gunfire. My heart nearly stops as the bullet rips into the bark of a tree just to my left. Chunks of wood fly into the air, and I run harder, my blood roaring in my ears and my heart pounding so fast, I’m surprised it doesn’t give out.
I don’t know if it’s the fear, adrenaline, or I just need to hit the gym, but my legs feel wobbly and undependable. Every time my feet hit the rough forest floor, I grow more terrified of what feels inevitable—a bullet hitting me or the guy right on my heels.
He’s faster than I am, so even though he’s trying to let me stay ahead, he’s also trying to outrun whoever might be behind us.
It’s too dark in this wooded area. Without the streetlights and with the sounds of our own hearts thundering in our ears, it’s impossible to judge how close they are.
Especially for me, because he’s right behind me.
Even though I know he’s the one who saved my ass back there, hearing him running after me, it feels like I’m being chased by him, too.
My legs are ready to give out. I think it’s the fear and adrenaline because I’ve run a lot farther than this before.
The masked man comes up beside me. I look over at him, my hair whipping my face, then I dart a look behind us.
It does no good. I can’t see anybody.
But maybe that’s good news. It means they aren’t close.
It occurs to me as I run beside the guy gazing at me wordlessly from behind the empty eyes of that mask, this could be part of it.
I immediately thought he was my savior because that’s the role he showed up playing and I was desperate for help. Hell, I was ready to play nice with that Aiden asshole. I wasn’t picky.
But while I’m running for my life, the guy running beside me just… doesn’t feel as afraid as I am.
I remember a story some guy at a bar near campus told me last year right before Halloween. He was talking about the secret societies on campus, and he told this twisted tale of a virgin sacrifice one of them made in the woods on Halloween night.
Wouldn’t it be a hell of a lot easier to get me into these woods without a fight if they tricked me into running out here myself?
The one guy said Aiden was stabbed, but I didn’t see that myself. Things were happening fast, so it’s totally possible I missed it, but I didn’t see any blood, either.
My imagination starts working overtime and I picture it. We stop up ahead to catch our breath. I’m afraid to stop for too long because they might catch up, but he assures me he thinks we lost them.
Only we didn’t, and as soon as I start to breathe normally again, the guys emerge from the darkness with their black hoods up. Aiden is holding the knife he was supposedly stabbed with. Then I turn to my supposed hero, and he takes off the mask. He’s number seven, and he grabs me before I can run away.
A chill runs down my spine.
If that happens, if I’m cornered again, is there any chance I can keep running and not get caught by one of them?
I don’t think so.
I’m spent already. I’d trade a few months of my life for a drink of water right now, but I’m determined to keep moving even if that’s the last thing my legs want to do.
Still jogging but not as fast as he was before, the guy beside me draws out his phone.
To alert them?
My paranoia tempts me to take off running faster, but I’m not even sure where to go. I’ve been running in the direction he told me to, but if he’s working with them, he’s just leading me wherever they want me to go.
“Do you know where we’re going?” I ask.
He points up ahead of us. “If we keep going that way, we’ll find the road. It’s not much farther.” He looks over at me. He sees I’m tired, but he lifts his chin. “Come on, we’re almost there.”
Almost where?
I don’t ask, though.
If he is part of it and he’s leading me out here for some sick sacrificial ritual, then I’m fucked, but for the sake of my own sanity, I try to believe he’s not tricking me.