Chapter 1

Ava

"Aw, come on!" I whispered to myself. My fingers were slippery with sweat—the cold, clammy kind that comes with fear. I had to get these ropes off, or I’d never escape. I heaved another deep breath and tried again, struggling with my fingertips to grab the sharp nail I’d discovered. If I could grab it, I could use it to cut my bindings, and once my hands were free, I was going to bolt out of this place as fast as possible.

I should never have made that stop at the small motel, but I’d been exhausted after driving for nearly twenty hours straight, with only small breaks. I thought I was in the clear, that driving all the way from New Mexico to Minnesota would mean they’d never find me. Clearly, I was wrong.

My fingers slipped along the tiny piece of metal, but finally, I had it and with a triumphant grin I started sawing at my ties. I kept a careful watch of the single door into this place, straining against the dark to make out any details. There wasn’t much to see, but the scents told me this place was old and rotten. Something stank badly in a corner, like an animal had died there.

Beneath my knees, the floorboards were rough and uneven. My frantic sawing with the nail made my weight shift, and the wood creaked in dangerous ways. I knew it was just a single room in a cabin. There hadn’t even been a lock on the door when they threw me in here. If I got loose, I knew I could get out.

The rope frayed, and finally, I could pull my wrists free. I clutched the nail tightly in my fist as I scrambled to my feet; it wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing. The planks creaked even louder when I walked across them, and some felt spongy and soft, but I reached the door and pressed my back against the wall beside it.

Pressing my eye to the gap in the door frame, I peered outside. Had they left? Or were those creepy men still out there? I couldn’t hear any voices, and I was certain I’d heard a truck drive off a while ago. The three guys who had snatched me from the motel parking lot were complete strangers to me, but I’d overheard them talking to someone on the phone. They were taking orders, and I had a terrible feeling that I knew exactly who was giving them.

I could see only a sliver of the moon, glowing pale against the dark sky. There were branches too, but I already knew I was in the woods. That was about all I knew, and I worried that if the kidnappers didn’t kill me, the woods would. With no other option left, I slowly began to pull the door open, cautiously peering outside.

There was a small clearing in front of the old, derelict cabin, and ruts in the dirt made it clear a truck had come and gone several times. I didn’t see any sign of the men. Not the big one with the red ball cap and bristly beard, nor the small, weaselly fellow with the beady eyes. I had never gotten a good look at the driver, but since he seemed to be in charge, I was certain he had left. He hadn’t even gotten out of the truck when we arrived.

My footsteps were just soft shuffles over the sagging porch as I slipped outside, my skin covered in goosebumps. Either I was going to fall through those planks, or one of the creeps would round the corner. My luck was bound to run out—it had run out a week ago when this whole nightmare started.

I tried not to think too hard about my life back home. It hadn’t been much, but I’d loved my outgoing, social job at the rec center, and I’d loved working with troubled teens even more. I missed them. They were my family since I didn’t have any of my own. On account of being one of those troubled teens myself once. If only I hadn’t had a penchant for working late, or for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Maybe I had more luck left than I thought I had: I’d made it across the porch without discovery or a fatal fall. Following the road would be my safest bet to get out of here, it would mean not getting lost. It was also the most obvious option. I’d be easy to spot and chase down. With trepidation, I eyed the gnarled woods that lined the dirt road; thick trees, mossy trunks, and laden branches. Those trees made me feel like they might reach out and snatch me up. They looked like they belonged in the swamp of a hag or a witch.

I bit my lip and made my choice, darting across the clearing in front of the cabin and ducking into the woods. Once beneath its cover, I pressed my back against a thick tree trunk and tried to calm my labored breathing. I had to be stealthy, and panting like I’d just run ten miles wasn’t going to help. Why was I thinking of witches? That was stupid. Now that image was stuck in my head, and I was suddenly convinced that some terrifying, magical creature actually did live in these woods.

A few weeks ago, that thought would never have crossed my mind. I wasn’t superstitious, and though I loved fairy tales, I had believed none of that stuff was true. Today, I knew differently. I knew that strange, mystical stuff was real, and I really, really wished I didn’t.

Since it still didn’t look like my escape had been discovered, I began to quietly make my way deeper into the woods. I vowed to keep an eye on the road—staying close enough so it would guide me, but far enough away to avoid being spotted. We’d driven for quite some time to get here, so I had no hope that this would be easy. There was no highway nearby, no kind passerby to flag down. Even if I did find one, would it be right to ask for help? It might just put them in danger too…

Then the howling started. The back of my neck prickled, and though I didn’t want to, I forced myself to look over my shoulder. A pair of yellow eyes glowed to my left, and another pair was directly behind me. A snarl rippled through the air, and then one of them stepped forward, revealing what it was: a hound, maybe a coyote. Whatever it was, it looked mangy and scruffy. The fangs warned me that, sickly or not, it was a threat.

The other one was much bigger— not a hound, but a bear: a big ol’ grizzly that lumbered into the light with its maw pulled into a vicious snarl. I screamed when I saw it, and then instinct took over. I started running as fast as I could, my legs pumping and arms swinging. Branches slapped me left and right, welts formed on my skin, and several times I tripped over protruding roots.

The beasts chasing me seemed close at times and then further away, and I knew they were toying with me. They enjoyed my fear and my terrified run through the woods. I’d already lost all sight of the road, and panic clogged my throat as I realized how utterly lost and alone I was. Was this it? Was this how I was going to die?

I tripped, my ankle twisting badly as I caught it on another root. When I scrambled back up, my ankle buckled and burned, screaming in pain. A glance over my shoulder revealed how close they were. Too close this time. Yapping and growling, with their yellow fangs bared and saliva dripping from their gaping maws. Were they going to eat me?

My fingers grabbed hold of the nearest support as I yanked myself upright, balancing on my good leg. “Stay away! I did nothing to you. I wouldn’t tell a soul. Who would believe me?” I said. The rusty nail was still in my fist, but it was useless now. I tossed it at the yapping, slobbering coyote, but it dodged and growled.

I needed a way out or a good hiding place, but I doubted that climbing a tree would do me any good. If they were what I thought they were, they would have no trouble snatching me. I glanced over my shoulder, searching for anything—maybe a weapon—and my eyes caught sight of a gleaming fence not far away. It was a chain-link structure, partially overgrown with climbing ivy, but definitely man-made.

Then I saw the sign: “Keep Out!” It was the last thing I saw before the beasts descended on me.