Page 77 of Forever Only Once

Chapter 18

Cross

The soundof the gunshot ricocheted in my ears, and I froze for a second. Fuck. No. It couldn’t be her. She had to be alive. This wasn’t fucking happening.

I kept going, doing my best to head to where I had heard the shot. There were drag marks in the ground. Was it her? It had to be. The tracks looked too fresh. I wasn’t an actual tracker, I had never been hunting, but I could follow these. They were so prevalent that I couldn’t not follow them.

I knew the cops and others were following me, or at least they would be soon. I was stupid for coming out on my own, but I couldn’t just leave her here. I had no weapon, I had nothing, but I had myself.

I couldn’t let her be alone. Not after everything that had happened to her.

I kept going and turned a corner, following the path the tracks had made. I stumbled into a tree as I looked in front of me. I knew this area. Had walked back here before. The lights of the cabin in front of me were on, but only by a couple lanterns. She had to be in there. And I knew she wasn’t alone.

I dropped to my knees, just in case someone was looking out the window, and finally got a good look at the door.

It was open, light shining like a beacon in the dark. My heart stopped.

There was a body there, feet out the door, blood pooling. I knew those shoes.

Jesus Christ, it was Chris.

And Chris wasn’t moving.

And then I heard a man screaming, and a woman whimpering, and I knew who that was.

It was Hazel, my Hazel.

Jesus Christ.

There was no more time to think or plan because they were shouting again. Then I heard another gunshot and immediately got to my feet.

I didn’t know what I was doing, and I knew I would likely get myself killed, but I had to save her. I had to do something. I wasn’t some tragic hero in a thriller movie, who had a weapon and knew what the fuck I was doing.

All I had was myself, and what little time we had left.

I ran and jumped over Chris’s body, ignoring the brains and the blood and whatever the fuck else was around him, and slammed into the man looming over Hazel.

I threw myself on top of the man who had to be Thomas—who else would it be?—even though I had no idea what he would be doing here or why. Thankfully, the shadows from the window gave me a sense of where everybody was positioned so I could hit my mark.

Hazel screamed, and I saw her thrashing on the floor, moving her hands as if she were trying to break free of restraints.

I landed on top of the other man, and the gun fell to the floor, sliding across the wood planks.

“You fucking bastard,” the other man growled beneath me and punched out. I didn’t have time to move off him quickly enough, so the fist landed on my jaw. But I didn’t move, I hit him back, and then again.

We rolled on the floor, the man larger than me, apparently having used the weights at the prison long enough to bulk up.

But maybe this wasn’t even Thomas.

It didn’t matter who he was.

This man had shot my brother, had killed Chris, and had Hazel.

Fuck this shit.

“Cross, watch out!” I ducked the other man’s fist at Hazel’s warning, and then punched him again, this time hard enough that the guy’s eyes rolled back, and he passed out, his whole body going lax.

I staggered to my feet, leaving him where he fell, and ran towards Hazel.