I spun in a circle, thin branches grabbing at my skin as I pushed through them, trying to find my way in the dark.
The screaming from the farmhouse stopped and then started again, making me believe I had more time to get wherever it was I was going, but I heard someone moving in close proximity.
“Arlen?” I whispered, peering around trees and foliage.
“Cali, it’s me.”
I paused and searched for the voice’s owner, jumping back when he emerged on my right.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Simon?” I hissed, listening for any other sound.
“Tito sent me to watch out for you. I set up camp in the woods by the warehouse trying to see you, but I never did until now. I overheard where you were going.”
He answered all the questions I hadn’t asked but it was ridiculously foolish to send him so close, which is probably why Tito sent a guy he didn’t care for. If he died, no biggie. Tito was a pain in my ass. He meant well but his ideas were never foolproof.
“He wants you to come back.”
“I can’t do that…yet,” I tacked on for good measure, noting that the screaming had stopped.
“What? Why would you…holy shit, you crazy cunt, you switched sides? You’ve no idea what that prick has planned, do ya? Ask him about––”
Too much chit-chat.
He ended his sentence on a scream as I jumped on him, wrapped my legs around his waist, and bit down as hard as I could.
He pulled at my hair and swung his fists into my side, trying to get me off. It fucking hurt but I persisted nonetheless. There was no chance in hell he was making it out of the woods without being caught, and he would sing like a bird with the blues from the slightest bit of torture.
I didn’t need to see Romero to know he was in the woods somewhere; I could sense him, and I would never be able to explain why a stranger was talking to me in the middle of the woods.
Biting through someone’s neck looked much easier in movies. The skin was rough and firm; I couldn’t bite it open like a vampire.
He started spinning in circles, slamming me into a tree and dislodging me. I hit the solid ground with an “Oomph”.
Rolling away, I barely missed his shoe connecting with my face. I scrambled to my feet and he landed in the exact spot I had just been.
“No, no, no!” His scream cut through the air as bone made a loud pop and Romero broke the leg he’d just kicked at me. His fist connected with his face, breaking his bottle cap glasses and knocking him out.
“You don’t touch her.” The calmness in which he delivered the words was completely contradictory to the way his muscles were bunched in anger.
Grimm came trampling through the trees a minute later and quickly surveyed the scene. His gaze paused on me and he shook his head.
“Take him to the Jeep,” Romero bit out.
“You and that lil brat are a real fuckin handful,” Grimm muttered, grabbing Simon by the shirt. He turned back the way he came and dragged him off.
Shit! If they took him back to the warehouse, Tito would be a lot more screwed than I was.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No…” I brought my hands together in front me and stared at his back.
“Are you going to tell me why?”
I knew what he was asking me and I had an answer…sort of. I wasn’t ready to explain it to him, though.
It didn’t matter how far I ran or if I ran using every ounce last ounce of my energy. I could run from my past. I could run from the things I had and had yet to do. I could run from the illusion of the woman I’d try to portray to everyone. I could not run from him or the sick bitch inside of me I was finally getting acquainted with.
One went harmoniously with the other.
I didn’t voice any of that, though. I allowed him to believe whatever conclusion he wanted, let him think I ran because I was unable to handle this side of him.
He made a humming sound in his throat and walked off without looking at me once. “Bring your ass on.”
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I stared up at the starless sky and expelled a deep breath before following him.
When I caught up to him again he had the passenger side door open and helped me climb into the jeep, still not looking at me.
Arlen gave me a weak smile from the back seat. My eyes floated over her shoulder to where a blonde sat with her head on her knees. I didn’t bother asking what they were doing with her; I didn’t care.
“Your friend’s riding in the back,” Romero said once he was back in the driver’s seat.
“That girl is not my friend.”
He started the Jeep and pulled off, driving around a stick in the middle of the lane that had the goat head staked on top of it.
It wasn’t until I heard the screams five minutes in that I understood what he meant. Simon was riding in the back. Romero was dragging him behind the Jeep.