The Darkest Hour (KGI #1)(14)

And then she realized the stupidity of curling into a ball. She needed to get away. She’d given away her hiding spot already. It was only a matter of time before they came for her.

Terror lending her strength, she pushed herself up and started crawling as fast as she could. She flinched when a bullet hit the tree just over her head, and she threw herself down once more.

When no other bullets smacked the ground around her, she started forward again, praying with every inch she gained. The gunfire stopped, but instead of reassuring her, it inspired gut-wrenching panic. No longer distracted, they’d be after her.

She crawled faster, her breath ripping painfully from her chest. Sweat rolled down her face, or was it tears?

She ran into the body before she saw it. She was too stunned to scream or even process that the man was dead. Blood was everywhere and the rifle he’d carried was still firmly in his grip.

She knew this man. She hated him. She spared no sympathy for his death. With more strength than she thought she possessed, she ripped the rifle from his grasp and crawled beyond him.

They wouldn’t take her back. She’d kill them—all of them.

When she’d crawled as far from the body as possible, she stopped to catch her breath. Her sides ached, her shoulder burned, and her vision was blurred by tears.

A sob caught in her throat and she swallowed rapidly. Afraid of betraying herself, she lowered her head, burying her face in her free hand. She just needed a moment to rest.

Several long minutes passed, or maybe it was seconds. It seemed an eternity. And then she heard her name. The softest whisper, carried on a breeze. Rachel.

She flinched but refused to look up. They never called her by name.

“Rachel.”

Too close this time.

Her head came up, and she grabbed for her rifle. She rolled over, jamming the gun in the direction of the voice. A strange man stared back at her, his expression blank. His ice blue eyes were unreadable as he surveyed her calmly. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact she was pointing a gun at him.

She tried to scoot away, but she was tangled in ground cover. She thrust the gun forward, trying to at least keep her finger on the trigger.

From behind the man, another man appeared. Sam. He said nothing as he put himself between her and the other guy.

“Back off, Steele,” he murmured.

Sam put one placating hand forward, his other loosely holding his own rifle, though he made no effort to point it at her. “Rachel, listen to me. I won’t hurt you. I swear it. You need to put down the gun and come with me so I can take you back to Ethan.”

Tears immediately swirled. A knot formed in her throat, and no amount of swallowing would make it go away.

He couldn’t be trusted. He was lying to her. Ethan was dead. She’d seen the blood. Seen him fall right after he’d yelled hoarsely for her to go.

Holding back the grimace of pain, she got awkwardly to her feet. Sam relaxed and held out a hand to her, but instead of moving forward, she backed away, her gaze never leaving him or the man still standing just a few feet away.

Her hands shaking, she leveled the gun at an area between them, hoping they would just go away. Sam’s brows came together for a moment and then he stepped forward.

“No,” she choked out, as she stabbed the gun in his direction.

His hand moved upward and he stepped back, his expression guarded.

“Rachel,” he said soothingly. “Honey, I’m here to help you. It’s time for you to go back home. To the people who love you. Your family.”

Her heart seized. Family? She couldn’t remember a family. All she could remember was Ethan, and even those images were vague. When had she forgotten? All she could remember was endless pain and fear. The haziness brought on by injections thrust upon her and the crawling need when they waited too long to give her another dose.

For a brief moment she hesitated, drawn to the idea of family. A home. People who loved her. But then she remembered. Ethan was dead. He was all she had, all she could remember. Surely she would remember if there were others. Would she have forgotten her family?

You can barely remember who you are.

The thought drifted through the twisted pathways of her mind, taunting and reminding her of her tenuous grasp on her sanity.

She caught movement in her periphery and yanked her head to the side to see another man stalk toward Sam and Steele. He wore a ferocious scowl as his gaze homed in on her. He was bigger and meaner looking than Sam, and he should have put the fear of God in her, but there was something familiar, something oddly comforting about him.

Was she losing her mind?

He stopped at Sam’s side, and she still stared as images flashed erratically in her mind.

“What the hell is going on, Sam?” he asked in a low growl. “We don’t have time to be f**king around. Let’s get her and go.”

“Tell her that,” Sam murmured as he stared at the gun she held. “I’d say she doesn’t want to go.”

Like flashes of lightning in a black sky, pictures shot randomly through her shattered mind. Memories? The man standing beside Sam, only he was smiling, almost tenderly. Water. A dock. He lifted her and then tossed her into the lake. He stood laughing as she came up sputtering, and she was laughing too. Happy. She’d been happy.

Another memory, haunting and sweet. A church. Her gliding down the center aisle. Ethan waiting . . . and this man in front of her . . . he’d escorted her. Her hand clutched tight over his arm. He whispered low for her not to worry, that she was the most beautiful bride in the world and that his brother was the luckiest man on earth.