72 Hours

“You can’t do that forever, blaming yourself. She wouldn’t want that. You have to let go, Lara. You have to.”


“I’m trying,” I whisper. “I really am.”

“Keep talking. Focusing on that is only going to hurt. Keep talking with me, give me this night with you.”

“Okay, Noah,” I whisper.

His fingers trail lower, sliding over my hip bones, making it all feel better. The way he always does.

“So we have food for our tree date covered. What else do we need?” I say, voice wavering.

“That a stupid question?” he asks in a husky voice.

“Noah.” I laugh softly. “We’re in a tree. I don’t know how you think that could work.”

“I could make it work.”

I gasp as his fingers slide beneath my panties to find my aching sex.

“This is wrong,” I whimper. “We’re probably going to die tomorrow.”

“All the more reason for me to touch you once more,” he whispers against my ear.

His finger glides down over my clit and he carefully slips one inside. I moan and arch back against him. It feels good. So good.

“You’re wet,” he murmurs. “Fuck.”

“Noah,” I half warn, half plead.

“Hush, let me do this.”

He moves his hands in that skilled way he has, working my body until I’m on the edge, fingers latched onto his arms, nails gliding along his skin. In and out his fingers pump until I can’t take it a second longer. I explode with a cry, my entire body trembling with a much-needed release. Making a pleased, throaty sound, he slides his hand from my panties.

“That was worth every second,” he murmurs against my ear.

“What about you?” I whisper into the darkness.

“It isn’t about me.”

This man. Could he get any better? Why did I deny him for so long?

“Get some rest, Lara.”

“I don’t want to fall,” I admit, even though my eyes are heavy with exhaustion.

“I’ll never let you fall, don’t you know that by now?”

Yes.

This man.

*

The sound wakes us.

I don’t know it at the time, through the fear and terror, but that sound is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

It starts off in the distance, just a low hum that wakes us from our sleep. It takes a moment to wake up and when we do, I realize the sound is getting closer. The sound of a car, maybe a bike. I’m not sure when it’s this far away but it’s coming closer by the second. My heart jerks to life and I know there will never be another day in my life that I’ll wake with this much fear.

There isn’t a single word in the world to explain it. It starts at the top of my head and consumes my body right down to my toes. My chest is so tight I can’t breathe, my stomach twisting violently and my head spinning. I thought I was strong enough, but hearing that sound coming closer has me questioning everything.

“Noah,” I plead.

What I’m pleading for, I don’t know.

“Lara,” he says, his voice tight and so full of fear it makes my skin prickle.

“He’s coming.”

He takes a shaky breath. “He’s coming.”

The sound nears and I realize it’s not a car, but definitely a motorbike. Maybe an off-road one. It’s traveling slowly, which means he knows where we are. How does he know where we are? We’re above the cameras.

“He knows where we are,” I say frantically.

“Fuck,” Noah curses.

“How does he know where we are?” I yell.

“I don’t know, but we have to move. We’re high, he won’t get a clear shot of us. We have to move, Lara.”

He stands, pulling out a spear and a rock from a branch he leaned them against. He tucks the spear into his jeans and clutches the rock in his hand. I do the same, standing on trembling legs. I don’t think I can move, let alone climb across trees.

“Move,” he barks.

The bike comes closer and my vision blurs as the terror clutches my body. We’re going to die. Goddammit. I don’t want to die.

“If you see him, don’t be afraid to hit him,” Noah yells, grabbing a branch and taking himself higher. “Let’s get higher.”

The bike is right beneath us now, the low rumble like torture to my ears. Tears run down my cheeks as I move higher. Then it stops. It just stops. That scares me even more.

Through the silence, a voice rings out. “You think I can’t see you.” A male. Familiar. I’ve heard that voice before. “I can see you. Are you ready to play?”

“Noah,” I sob.

“Keep moving, Lara.”

“I wonder what I should do to you today,” the voice calls. “I don’t want the game over too suddenly, and you’re making it far too easy for me, climbing those trees. How far do you think you’re going to get?”

“Don’t answer him,” Noah growls. “Move.”

“You can only climb so far before you have to come down. Or I can shoot you up there, but that won’t be any fun.”

I hiccup.

“Scared, are you, Lara? I knew you would be. You’re going to be the one I leave alive longer. It’ll be fun to watch you beg for your life. I could have picked your friend Rachel for this, but she has sass that girl.”

I freeze. Rachel. How does he know about Rachel?

“Did she tell you about our date?”

I shake my head, trying to remember.

“She was so gullible, really. I charmed her socks off and got even more information about you, and the silly girl thought it was because I was into her. Can you imagine?”

I jerk. This man was the one Rachel went on a date with? Oh God. She went on a date with the guy trying to kill us. He got that close? He got that close. I gag. Reality hitting me like a sledgehammer.

“Focus, Lara,” Noah calls. “Don’t listen.”

Tears cause my throat to tighten. My fingers tremble as we climb higher.

“And you, Noah. Thinking you can outsmart me. You can’t outsmart me. I’ve thought of every scenario, including the one you’re in right now. Which one of you will I hurt today? Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…”

“Noah,” I cry.

“Move,” he barks. “Now, Lara.”

With shaking fingers, I keep moving, climbing higher. The voice below goes silent and trepidation clutches my chest, because that’s never a good thing. He’s quiet for a reason. That reason is made known in a matter of seconds when an arrow comes shooting through the trees and right past my leg.

“Noah,” I scream.

“Move, Lara. Move!”

“I can see you, foolish idiots,” he yells from below. “You think I can’t, but I can. Stop moving, you’re making it too easy.”

Stop moving. He’s right. Each movement we make has the trees rattling.

“Don’t stop moving,” Noah says, as if reading my mind.

“If we move, he can see us,” I whisper.

“He can see us anyway. Moving gives us a chance.”

Laughter from below.

Another arrow comes barreling through the trees, getting lodged in a branch above Noah’s head. Bile burns my throat. Noah reaches up and jerks it out, shoving it in his pants. We climb, moving from branch to branch, but those arrows keep coming. Flying through as if there is nothing in their path.