Chapter 21

chapter

twenty-one

Lucy startled awake, heart pounding. She hadn't meant to fall asleep. The lean-to was dim, the light outside fading to dusk.

How long had they been out?

Hours at least.

Panic clawed at her throat. She'd left them vulnerable, defenseless against whoever was hunting them.

Sawyer still slept, his head heavy in her lap, face pale and pinched with pain even in slumber. Dark purple smudges underscored his eyes. He looked utterly wrecked. Guilt chewed at her insides. She should have kept watch, made sure they were safe.

Zelda lifted her head from Sawyer's hip and let out a soft whine, her hazel eyes fixed on something outside the shelter. Lucy tensed, following the dog's gaze. The lean-to's entrance yawned like an open mouth, shadows gathering in the corners as night crept in. She held her breath, straining to hear over the pounding of her pulse in her ears.

But there were only the normal sounds of the forest settling in for the evening—the hoot of an owl, the chirp of crickets, the rustle of nocturnal creatures beginning their nightly foraging. No snapping twigs or crunching footsteps to indicate they weren't alone. Still, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled with unease. They couldn't stay here, exposed and unprotected. They needed to find real shelter, and she needed to check the phones.

She stood and stretched, working out the kinks. A shiver raced through her as the evening breeze kissed her bare skin. Goosebumps erupted over her arms and legs.

Their clothes were dry, if a bit stiff and wrinkled. She tugged on her T-shirt and cargo pants, the fabric rough against her skin. Then, gently, she roused Sawyer. His hand shot out and gripped her wrist tightly, eyes flying open in alarm.

"It's okay," she murmured soothingly, the words catching in her throat as she met his gaze. "We're safe."

He blinked slowly, disoriented, before his grip on her slackened and he groaned. "Shit." He scrubbed his hands over his face. "I feel like I was hit by an entire highway full of trucks. Don't suppose there's any coffee?"

"Sorry, fresh out of Starbucks."

A grunt came from Sawyer as he pushed himself into a sitting position. His face turned a shade paler at the movement, but he didn't protest.

Lucy watched, teeth worrying her lower lip, as Sawyer got to his feet. He wavered slightly, a hand shooting out to steady himself against the rough logs of the lean-to.

"How's the leg?" she asked.

"Still attached."

"I didn't figure it fell off overnight," she said dryly.

Despite the pain etched on his face, he gave her a wan smile. "Ready to move?" he asked, voice hoarse as he took a limping step forward.

She frowned down at his legs. His knee looked painfully swollen. "Yes, but you don't look ready."

"I'm fine."

"Sawyer—"

He scowled. "You're so worried about me, but I'm not the one who was impaled by a stick yesterday."

God, with everything else that had happened, she'd forgotten about the wound. She touched her lower back and found the bandage was miraculously still there. She could only imagine how disgusting it was now. She should probably have Sawyer change it. "Maybe we should stay the night here and rest."

He shook his head. "It's too risky. We need to keep moving." He looked down toward Zelda, a faint smile curling his lips as he reached out to pat her head. "And I think someone needs a walk."

Zelda's tail thumped against the ground, and she lifted her head, nuzzling into Sawyer's hand. He stroked her, fingers digging into her fur. If she hadn't known better, she might have thought he was drawing strength from the contact.

She frowned at him. His face was drawn, skin almost translucent in the dimming light. And yet, there he stood, ready to soldier on.

Goddamn stubborn man.

"All right," she said, sighing. "But we take it slow, and we stop when it gets dark."

He nodded, not arguing this time.

They gathered their belongings and exited the lean-to. The forest was shrouded in deep shadows. The blanket of dusk that felt both ominous and protective. At least if they couldn't see, then the shooter couldn't see them.

Zelda led the way, her nose to the ground. Sawyer kept his hand on her harness, the two of them moving as one. Lucy followed, watching as he navigated the uneven terrain with confidence. He trusted Zelda implicitly, and it was heartwarming to see their bond in action.

Despite their slow pace, they managed to cover a significant distance before the need for a break became apparent. Both she and Sawyer were gasping by the time they found a decent spot—an ancient redwood as wide as a large truck, its hollowed-out trunk offering a sheltered place to rest that wasn't readily apparent to anyone who might wander by. They crawled inside, the cool dampness of the mossy floor seeping into their clothes.

Sawyer rested his back against the tree, eyes closed, face pinched with pain, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. Zelda lay down beside him, resting her head on his thigh. His hand absently stroked her fur.

"I'll check the phones," she said, breaking the silence. Hopefully, by some miracle, they'd be dried out and working again.

She took the waterlogged phones from her bag, her heart a heavy stone in her chest. She turned on her phone first. Nothing. Dead.

Her heart sank further.

She lifted Sawyer's phone, flicking the power button with a trembling finger. Nothing.

She tried the other phones and got more dead screens. Bea's phone flickered on, but there was no signal.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, regret and helplessness washing through her as she stuffed the phones back into her bag and sank down beside Sawyer.

His hand sought hers, his fingers warm and reassuring against her cold skin. "We knew it was a long shot."

"Without the phones, there's no sense in us continuing. We should go back to the fire lookout. We'll be safer there."

Sawyer was silent for a heartbeat. "Except there's a killer back there."

She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. "So ‘safer' wasn't the best choice of words. But someone in the forest service will eventually remember that Ethan is stationed there and send a rescue team for him. We need to be there when they do. Without the phones, it's our only option now."

He didn't respond immediately, his fingers still idly tracing circles on the back of her hand. She watched as he mulled over her words, his eyes staring blankly ahead as his forehead creased with worry. She could practically see the gears in his head turning.

"Okay," he finally conceded, voice barely a whisper in the enclosing darkness. His grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly. "Okay. We go back."

Lucy felt an unexpected wave of relief at his agreement. But that relief was short-lived as reality crashed in. Going back meant potentially crossing paths with the shooter. And if they somehow miraculously survived to make it back, there was still the problem of Maya's killer—if it wasn't the same person.

"We'll rest here for tonight," she decided. "We need to regain our strength before we can attempt the trek back. We've pushed ourselves enough."

She was careful to keep using "we" rather than "you." The last thing she wanted to do was tap into that stubborn streak of his. He needed to rest. The fact that he was too exhausted to argue or crack a joke told her just how close to his limit he really was.

"Sounds like a plan," Sawyer murmured, voice raspy with fatigue. Zelda let out a soft whine and nuzzled her head into Sawyer's lap. He responded by laying down and wrapping an arm around the dog's body, pulling her closer against his side.

The quietness of the forest felt thick and heavy, pressing in on them from all sides. Lucy listened to the rhythm of their breathing as it filled the silence—Sawyer's shallow gasps gradually slowing to match the steady rise and fall of Zelda's flank.

Eventually, exhaustion tugged Lucy down into a fitful sleep. Even in her dreams, the image of the shooter loomed over her like a specter—faceless, nameless, but very real.

She burst awake from the nightmares before dawn and automatically rolled over to check on Sawyer.

He wasn't beside her anymore.

Her heart lurched in her chest, a frantic wave of fear washing over her. She shot up, glancing around the hollowed-out trunk. It was empty. Zelda, too, was missing.

"Sawyer?" she whispered.

There was no response.

The pit of dread in her stomach deepened. She scrambled to her feet, wincing at the sharp, shooting pain that traveled up from the wound on her back.

"Sawyer!"

Louder this time, but there was no response but the rustling of foliage in the early morning breeze.

A sob stuck in her throat as she frantically scanned their surroundings, but there was no sign of either Sawyer or Zelda. The early morning fog was thick and soupy, making it nearly impossible to see anything beyond a few feet ahead.

She stumbled forward, eyes darting around the dark forest, every rustling leaf and groaning branch making her jump. He wouldn't have left without saying anything. Something must have happened.

Crackling leaves underfoot made her freeze, hand clenching into a fist. A shadow moved in the fog—Zelda. The dog emerged from the underbrush, gaze focused and serious.

"Zelda," Lucy breathed out in relief before her worry returned in full force. "Where's Sawyer?"

The dog whined, moving to nudge against Lucy's knee before turning around and heading back into the underbrush. Lucy followed without hesitation, fear knotting her stomach tight.

Zelda led her off their makeshift path into denser woods. The faint light that barely seeped through the thick fog had an eerie, haunting quality to it.

Don't trip. Don't stumble.

Zelda was a few feet ahead of her, her tail wagging anxiously.

"Sawyer?" She called again, heart pounding in her chest as she finally broke through the dense foliage.

He stood on a ridge overhead, bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of the early morning light that cut through the fog. His hair looked wilder than usual, sticking up in every direction as if he'd been running his hand through it incessantly.

And he was way too close to the edge.

Fear was a living beast inside her, choking her. She scrambled up the incline. It was steeper than it looked from the ground. How the hell had he climbed up here with a bum knee?

"Sawyer! Don't move!"

He turned toward her voice…

And the crazy man was grinning. He held up a phone. "I got a signal!"