Harley shouted.
“Help us,” Annabelle shouted to the driver.
“Sir,” the driver called, but another shot blasted and the driver cried out.
Annabelle yanked Lena’s arm over her shoulder and began running toward the trees fifty feet away. Lena stumbled. With superhuman strength, Annabelle propelled forward, half dragging her cousin.
“I can’t,” Lena sobbed. “You go.”
Annabelle kept going. They reached the trees and plunged into murky darkness.
“Annabelle,” Lena said in a hoarse voice.
Lena suddenly went limp. Annabelle tried to keep her upright, but her weight dragged Annabelle to her knees. She felt Lena’s face. Clammy to the touch. Something sticky on her fingers at Lena’s left temple. Blood, she realized and couldn’t halt the tears. Was she dead? Annabelle placed an ear against her cousin’s chest and had to stifle a cry of joy when a steady heartbeat thumped in her ear. Horror replaced the joy on a rush of fear. She would never be able to lift Lena, much less carry her.
Goodbye, Mother, Father. Annabelle squeezed her eyes shut. How could something so insignificant as a tin box have gotten them killed? No one would know how they died. The tramping of feet caused her to jerk her head in the direction of the approaching footfalls.
Annabelle straightened.
He is coming.
She pushed to her feet and swayed. Think , she commanded herself. Hadn’t Lord Harley fired two shots? He had no more bullets. Could she defend herself and Lena from him?
Annabelle squatted and groped across the ground. Her fingers closed around a branch. She sent up a prayer of thanks and begged for mercy one last time, if not for herself, for Lena. The footsteps drew closer. She squinted into the darkness, but could discern nothing. Then the rustling of leaves—and a man’s heavy breathing—caused her to look to the left. A bulky shadow darted her way.
Chapter Eight
Annabelle lunged away from the man. She cried out to ensure he followed her. Boots pounded on the ground close behind. Her foot plunged into in a hole. She stumbled and caught herself despite the pain that shot up her leg. A large object loomed in front of her. She dodged right.
“You are making things worse,” he shouted.
Blood pounded through her ears in a roar. Her lungs burned. Her foot struck something. How long could she run before she fell or hit something? Foliage thrashed behind her. He was near. Annabelle was sure she felt hot breath on her neck. She whirled and swung the branch. Her arm jarred with the hard contact of the branch with a body. He grunted. She swung a second time and the branch cracked on contact. He fell with a loud crash.
Annabelle lifted the branch for another swing, but iron fingers clamped around her ankle like a manacle and yanked. She dropped to her backside with a thud, but kept hold on the branch and wacked the man. He cried out and tried to scramble away. She swung again, hitting a leg—or maybe an arm. The crunch of leaves and twigs suddenly reached her ears. What was this new horror? Was the driver now chasing her as well?
Suddenly, the branch was pulled from her grasp. Annabelle toppled, shoulder first, onto the man. He rolled onto her. His weight forced the air from her lungs and she gasped for air. Darkness swirled around her. He seized her arms and shoved them above her head. She thrashed. Her life had come to an end. Her parents would mourn her the remainder of their lives.
“Forgive me,” she whispered.
Calum would grieve. But how quickly would he forget?
“Where is your cousin?” Lord Harley hissed.
Gratitude welled up in Annabelle. Lena still had a chance to waken and escape. What if Lord Harley still managed to find her?
“She ran away,” Annabelle said through a sob.
“Liar,” he snapped. “She would not leave you. I was going to let you live.”
She had to keep him talking. Give Lena more time to wake up and get as far away as possible. “Now who’s the liar?” she said.
“I will
“Help us,” Annabelle shouted to the driver.
“Sir,” the driver called, but another shot blasted and the driver cried out.
Annabelle yanked Lena’s arm over her shoulder and began running toward the trees fifty feet away. Lena stumbled. With superhuman strength, Annabelle propelled forward, half dragging her cousin.
“I can’t,” Lena sobbed. “You go.”
Annabelle kept going. They reached the trees and plunged into murky darkness.
“Annabelle,” Lena said in a hoarse voice.
Lena suddenly went limp. Annabelle tried to keep her upright, but her weight dragged Annabelle to her knees. She felt Lena’s face. Clammy to the touch. Something sticky on her fingers at Lena’s left temple. Blood, she realized and couldn’t halt the tears. Was she dead? Annabelle placed an ear against her cousin’s chest and had to stifle a cry of joy when a steady heartbeat thumped in her ear. Horror replaced the joy on a rush of fear. She would never be able to lift Lena, much less carry her.
Goodbye, Mother, Father. Annabelle squeezed her eyes shut. How could something so insignificant as a tin box have gotten them killed? No one would know how they died. The tramping of feet caused her to jerk her head in the direction of the approaching footfalls.
Annabelle straightened.
He is coming.
She pushed to her feet and swayed. Think , she commanded herself. Hadn’t Lord Harley fired two shots? He had no more bullets. Could she defend herself and Lena from him?
Annabelle squatted and groped across the ground. Her fingers closed around a branch. She sent up a prayer of thanks and begged for mercy one last time, if not for herself, for Lena. The footsteps drew closer. She squinted into the darkness, but could discern nothing. Then the rustling of leaves—and a man’s heavy breathing—caused her to look to the left. A bulky shadow darted her way.
Chapter Eight
Annabelle lunged away from the man. She cried out to ensure he followed her. Boots pounded on the ground close behind. Her foot plunged into in a hole. She stumbled and caught herself despite the pain that shot up her leg. A large object loomed in front of her. She dodged right.
“You are making things worse,” he shouted.
Blood pounded through her ears in a roar. Her lungs burned. Her foot struck something. How long could she run before she fell or hit something? Foliage thrashed behind her. He was near. Annabelle was sure she felt hot breath on her neck. She whirled and swung the branch. Her arm jarred with the hard contact of the branch with a body. He grunted. She swung a second time and the branch cracked on contact. He fell with a loud crash.
Annabelle lifted the branch for another swing, but iron fingers clamped around her ankle like a manacle and yanked. She dropped to her backside with a thud, but kept hold on the branch and wacked the man. He cried out and tried to scramble away. She swung again, hitting a leg—or maybe an arm. The crunch of leaves and twigs suddenly reached her ears. What was this new horror? Was the driver now chasing her as well?
Suddenly, the branch was pulled from her grasp. Annabelle toppled, shoulder first, onto the man. He rolled onto her. His weight forced the air from her lungs and she gasped for air. Darkness swirled around her. He seized her arms and shoved them above her head. She thrashed. Her life had come to an end. Her parents would mourn her the remainder of their lives.
“Forgive me,” she whispered.
Calum would grieve. But how quickly would he forget?
“Where is your cousin?” Lord Harley hissed.
Gratitude welled up in Annabelle. Lena still had a chance to waken and escape. What if Lord Harley still managed to find her?
“She ran away,” Annabelle said through a sob.
“Liar,” he snapped. “She would not leave you. I was going to let you live.”
She had to keep him talking. Give Lena more time to wake up and get as far away as possible. “Now who’s the liar?” she said.
“I will
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