37. Roni

Ifucking hated running.

I hated it even more with a bleeding hole in my thigh. Every step I took was agonizing, and I was only at the top of the path to the cliff. Judging by the sound of the shouts coming from behind me, I was in deep shit.

A stabbing pain shot up my spine and down my leg, causing my foot to drag behind me as I desperately tried to keep moving. They were certainly going to catch me now. I just had to hope that Diego was able to free himself. If he could get free, then we both stood a chance at surviving.

My body jerked, and suddenly I was falling forward. My foot snagged a root, and my momentum carried me to the ground. Hard. My shoulder hit a sharp rock, and I had to smash my lips shut to keep from screaming out in pain. The shouts increased as my pursers watched me tumble down the cliff path.

Fucking hell. I was going to break my neck.

The pain was unimaginable. There wasn't a rock on the path I didn't hit. The only bright side was that I fell so fast that it put some distance between me and the others. When I hit the bottom, the wind was knocked out of me. My head faced the path I just fell down, and I had a clear view of the men who chased me, including the man who looked like the leader of the Geneva Project.

I almost wished I broke my neck in the fall. It would have ended this all. I wouldn't have to get up and keep fighting; I wouldn't have to suffer.

But there's nothing I could do about my survival. I had to keep going now.

I sucked in a painful breath and pushed up with my hands and pulled my knees under me. I groaned as I got to my feet and then put one foot in front of the other. Even though my body was wrecked beyond belief, I still had an advantage: I knew these woods better than they did. There was a thick cluster of trees off the deer path that headed toward the river. If I could get far enough ahead to disappear out of sight, I could hide in those woods and make my way to the river by wading through the creek that fed into the river.

The thought of wading through cold water was something I looked forward to now. It would help relieve some pain and help clean out my wounds.

The pain was all consuming as I somehow pushed myself harder. Pumping my arms caused agony in my shoulders, and my leg was an absolute nightmare. The blood running down my leg was alarming, but I couldn't worry about that. I had to get out of sight.

The path up ahead made a sharp right turn, and the cover of the trees provided me with the cover I needed. I struggled but managed to pull my jacket off and toss it further down the path to make it look like I continued down the path. I then turned completely to my right and rushed into the dense, wooded area, doing my best not to disturb the dirt beneath my feet or leave a blood trail.

The shouts, which seemed to get closer, only sent my pulse skyrocketing as I did my best to navigate the thick forest without tripping over tree roots or rocks. My leg only wanted to drag behind me, making the task even more difficult. The sound of birds calling to each other helped camouflage the sounds of snapping branches as I slowly covered ground. The sun was lost to me under the canopy of the trees, making it that much harder to figure out what direction I needed to go to stay out of sight of the path and get closer to the creek.

I took a deep breath.

Think, Roni.

Get yourself out of here before you bleed out.

Infection seemed a given at this point, but I wouldn't live long enough for infection to consume me if I didn't get the hole in my leg closed up. With all the trouble I'd caused, I doubted that the hole would even be a concern for me if I was caught. They'd probably kill me on sight and mail my head back to my dad, just to get a rise out of him. Video be damned.

I hate being a pawn.

I hate feeling like I have no control of my life.

I hate being scared.

I hate running.

I hate struggling to survive.

I needed to make it out of here. I needed to tell my father and the world just how fucking pissed I was. Livid.

The sound of trickling water caught my attention, and I damn near cried as the small bubbling creek came into view. I knew the water was cold before I even stepped in—cold enough it could possibly cause hypothermia, but what was one more risk? My odds of making it out of this whole ordeal were slim anyways. The idea of a cold drink of fresh water and cleaning my wounds was too much to ignore. I took off my boots and gently waded ankle deep into the water. The icy water was almost numbing, turning the skin of my feet pink. I quickly squatted, wincing in pain again, and used my hands to bring a large gulp of water to my lips. After I was hydrated, I focused on cleaning the wound on my leg. At first the hole burned, but then cold water provided a small numbing sensation, which gave me the strength I needed to keep moving.

I grabbed my shoes and walked next to the creek. I wanted to get to the river after my pursers did. Following the creek would put me far downriver and hopefully out of their sight. If not, then at least I'd have the element of surprise by showing up behind them.

It felt like I'd walked hours; the two-mile walk felt like twenty. When I heard the loud rush of the river from up ahead, a new burst of adrenaline coursed through me. I took cover behind a large oak tree to see if I could spot anyone upriver. I saw several figures scouring the riverbank two hundred yards away. They seemed to be shouting, and several of them turned to run back in the direction of the path.

Diego.

He was in hand-to-hand combat with one of the hired mercenaries on a small portion of the shore. Most of the area was surrounded by large rock, keeping the others from converging on him and overpowering him. In seconds, the asshole dropped to the ground after a good blow to the head caused by Diego's knee. The next approached Diego—if he could just take them out one by one before the next attacker got close enough, we stood a really good chance of surviving this. All of this could be over.

We could go home.

The thought filled me with joy and relief and hope.

I could curse my father out for all of this. Then I could sleep for a year or two while I healed—all with Diego by my side.

We could do this.

Hope bloomed inside of me, making me feel a little lighter and my pain a little easier to ignore. I wished I had my bow and arrows, but I didn't hide one of the extras nearby. The closest was behind one of those large rocks Diego was fighting near. He knew it was there, but it wouldn't be the weapon of choice for him in such a small space.

Diego was tackled, and the two of them fell backward into the water. Splashing made it hard to see them as they fought for control.

A hand wrapped itself around my mouth, and an arm went around my neck, pulling me flush against a large body.

Absolute dread washed over me, chilling the blood left in my veins to ice.

I was so close to freedom.

"Well, well, well…looks like the cat finally caught the mouse." A chill went up my spine. His tone was that of a predator, and it would have put me on edge if I weren't already teetering there.

This couldn't be it.

I couldn't have survived all of this just for him to catch me here.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment. The president's daughter is the perfect way to crush the will of a nation." He paused for a moment, and I felt his chin brush against my hair as he tilted his head. "How does it feel to know that your death will be the start of a new world? I'm sure you've heard about my videos. They're viral, fucking viral. And when the next one goes viral, it will be featuring your death. The whole world will be watching, and they will learn that the Geneva Project is not to be fucked with. And when we say, "jump," the politicians should ask how high or risk their families facing the same fate." He laughed, as if he's nothing but genius and the world was full of suckers. "We will be recognized, feared, and loved—all at the same time."

Despite the hold he had on my neck, I scoffed. "The only recognition you'll have is as a terrorist group. They won't do your bidding. They'll hunt you down like a fucking dog. Law enforcement is flushing your moles out from the inside. The love…the power you are seeking…that's gone. Finished, just as you will be." My words were harsh, filled with venom and hate.

I hoped it fucking burned him. I wanted it to get under his skin and soak into that rotten mind of his.

His body tensed behind me, and I swallowed hard, keeping a brave face. "That's where you are wrong. That's only a setback, not a game ender. When your face and headlines about your death are plastered all over the news, the world will see just how powerful we are. They'll see that not even the most powerful man on Earth could stop me. What does that say about me? They'll have to respect and fear me. They'll know that the president's daughter wasn't safe, and neither are their families. By caving to my whims, they'll give me what I want. Power. Change. The world will be a better place."

"So you want a puppet regime?" I asked. I needed to keep him talking, to buy myself some time to figure out an escape plan.

"Yes, because I've learned. Dictators are always murdered in some sort of coup. But if I'm behind the scenes pulling the strings of everyone, I'm untouchable. I'm protected by those who fear for those they hold dear. Love and fear is a powerful motivator to look past a disagreement in politics." He paused to tighten his hold around my neck even further. His lips grazed my ear. "Who gives a flying fuck about policy when they have to keep their world from falling apart around them?"

I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself.

"And what exactly is your platform? What is it you want to do with all that power? I don't know anything about the Geneva Project other than it's full of a bunch of mercenaries and murderers, ruled by a man with a massive unearned ego." I scoffed. "None of that sounds good enough for your slogan."

I desperately looked around me without moving my head, straining my eyes hard as I utilized every bit of my peripheral vision. The river was to my right and the forest to my left. Diego was still ahead of me, taking on more mercenaries.

"We believe the rich are too rich, corporate America steals from the poor, the planet—and that the government as it is can't be trusted."

Confusion smacked me in the face. "I don't understand. Those are ideals from two separate parties. How can you want to be recognized as something different when your opinions are those adopted by others?"

"Because they go about it all the wrong way. There's no time for asking nicely. Please and thank you are words we as a society don't have time for. They make back-door deals behind closed doors, all while lining their own pockets. They lie straight to your face without an ounce of remorse. We won't be looked over any longer, and that is how we are different."

I let out a slow breath. "You'll go to any means necessary to get what you want. Noble causes with unsavory means of achieving them."

I felt my hair shift as he nodded. "Bingo. And now, your death is going to help us with that. What a beautiful martyr." His lips continued to graze my ear, skeeving me out.

I could almost understand his points, and I might have found myself entertaining this conversation if we were sitting across from each other in a coffee shop and not talking about my death. But it was far too late for that; he was responsible for the death of my best friend and for uprooting my entire life. His message was completely sullied by his actions, and that was why he'd never succeed.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket. "Before you bite a bullet, you're going to tell the world and your father—"

A deep, angry growl interrupted his rant. I damn near shit myself right then and there—I finally understood the true meaning of "between a rock and a hard place." I was literally between a murderer and a giant grizzly bear—and I was positive the murderer could run faster than I could.

I was so fucked.