It felt like forever before Christy finally saw the weathered sign that indicated she’d found Camp Sawgrass. She’d gotten lost twice and almost caused an accident when she pulled a quick U-turn without signaling. The long, twisting road reminded her of the one Anthony lived at the end of, and she was relieved when she saw lights as the camp finally came into view. She pulled her little car up to one of the buildings and got out. She noticed some motorcycles and a sense of dread began to seep in when she realized the doctor’s fancy sports car and Anthony’s truck were nowhere in sight. Then she heard them. Their voices were getting louder as they came toward her. She turned around and saw four men approaching her. The large one that led the pack was licking his lips.

“Thank you, Anthony Bear,” he laughed, and she heard the other men agreeing with him.

She started to back away from them as memories of the Glades Motel jolted her senses. Her pulse sped, and the pounding in her head was so loud it wouldn’t allow a coherent thought to enter. Her knees weakened and her stomach churned violently. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not here at Anthony’s camp.

She turned to grab for her car door when she was roughly snatched by the hair and spun around.

“Look for the white rabbit,” one of the men said. “Just like the lady doc said!”

“No. This isn’t right. I’m here to see Anthony. He’s been hurt. Take me to him.” Her eyes stung as she fought back tears and her scalp burned as the big man held her hair so tightly she had to stand on her tiptoes to try and ease some of the tension. He lifted her higher, and she resisted the urge to cry out.

“Anthony put out a message that he was sending a special delivery. Something that he had no further use for. You’re ours now,” the man who held her sneered. He was so close to her she could smell his rancid breath.

“We were told to look for the white rabbit,” another one snickered. “Looks like a white rabbit to me.”

“Behind the building,” one of the men added as he motioned toward a distant structure. “Don’t want John to wake up and want us to share our present from Anthony.”

Christy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mind scrambled to process what was happening. She couldn’t resolve in her head that Anthony was giving her to these depraved men. Why had Veronique told her he was hurt? Where was she? Were they lovers who’d been secretly scheming all along to use her as payback against Van? The tears came in a rush, and she could feel them as they trailed hot lines on her cheeks. She started to scream when she was roughly jerked up higher by her hair and pushed toward a building. She was being shoved backward, tripping over her own feet even though they barely touched the ground.

The man slammed her hard against the structure while using his other hand to lift her completely off the ground by her throat. Her feet were no longer touching the grass, and she used both hands to try and pry his fingers from around her neck. He was squeezing so tightly, she could feel herself losing consciousness. She may have been passing out, but she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. With all her strength, she kicked and knew she’d connected when she heard a grunt of pain and was dropped to the ground. She started coughing and felt hands around her throat again. She tried her hardest to stay awake, to keep fighting, but the lack of oxygen made it impossible.

“You’ll pay for that you stupid bi—” She didn’t hear the rest as she felt herself slipping into a gray realm of nothingness and her world ceased to exist.

Anthony turned at the sign that led to the camp. He was anxious to take care of the emergency and get home to Christy. He missed her more than he ever imagined and didn’t want to be here. The recognition jolted him. When had he ever preferred a woman over his gang or his business? He allowed himself a few seconds to process what would happen if he turned around and let the emergency take whatever course it did on its own. He would’ve done that if X was in town, but since he was almost there, he would handle it. He pressed on the accelerator and took a few of the curves a little too fast, almost spinning out of control, just like his life now that Christy was in it.

Christy was trying to wake up from a bad dream. She heard voices and couldn’t tell if they were part of the dream or if she was hearing them.

“I ain’t never done it with a dead body before.”

“She’s not dead, you idiot. I choked her to keep her from screaming again,” came a reply. “You can tell she’s still breathing. If nobody wants first dibs, I’m on it. I don’t like sloppy seconds anyway.”

“You choked her ’cause you were mad that she kicked you in your tool bag,” one of the men said, and there was a round of laughter.

Panic struck as Christy realized she wasn’t dreaming, and she started coughing again. Out of sheer instinct, her eyes opened as her hand flew to her throat. It only took a split second to comprehend she was completely nude. When her eyes landed on the man who’d tried to strangle her, she tried to get up, but realized too late she was being held down by her shoulders from behind.

She looked up and saw another man leaning over her. She could see the underside of his chin, and it moved as he talked, “Well, hurry up then, Andrew. The lady said Anthony wanted this done and cleaned up quick.”

The man who’d been pressing on her shoulders let go for a second as he grabbed her hands and pinned them together above her head.

“Oh, this ain’t gonna be quick,” Andrew said, his tone malicious. She looked back at him and saw that he’d unzipped his jeans. Apparently, the kick had done nothing to deter him. She started squirming and thrashing when the man who held her yelled for the other guys to help him.

“Let her fight,” Andrew said, his voice thick and wicked. His tone told Christy that he was enjoying this way too much. “I like it better when they fight back. C'mon, white rabbit,” he sneered. "Give it your best shot."

He dropped to the grass then and spread her legs wide, pinning them to the ground by pressing hard on the inside of her thighs. He slowly looked over her body, taking time to ogle each breast and then the space between her legs. He had her spread so wide, she felt like she was going to tear in half.

She looked down to where he’d crouched between her legs and could see the tip of his erection was visible where he’d undone his jeans. She started to struggle, but it only made him stretch her legs wider. He smiled when she cried out in pain as his huge hands squeezed her thighs too tightly and spread them beyond normal capacity.

Christy tried not to move to avoid more pain, but couldn’t hold back the flood of tears that threatened. Her head was pounding, and she felt like her hearing was muffled, but she could still hear her tormentor’s next words. She wished she hadn’t.

“So, let me see. I’m not sure what the choicest morsel might be.” He let go of her thighs as he leaned forward and licked one of her breasts. It was a long slow lick, and he lingered at her nipple, gently chewing with his teeth. She stiffened waiting for a bite that didn’t come. She tried to kick him, but he was quicker, using his body weight to deflect her.

“Or maybe, I prefer something from a little lower,” he chuckled wickedly.

He gripped her thighs again, and she cried out when his tongue entered her and then swirled around the spot where Anthony had given her so much pleasure. Anthony, she thought. How could you do this to me? She couldn’t fathom how even if his affection and protection had all been a ruse, he could’ve ordered this.

“But don’t mistake my intentions, white rabbit.” He grinned evilly. “You’re not going to enjoy it. I’m taking my time deciding what part of your body I’m going to take a bite out of. And after I do, I’m going to chew on it nice and slow and spit it back in your face.”

“Hurry up, Andrew,” one of the men who was standing off to the side called out. “We ain’t got all night.”

When Anthony pulled around the last curve and spotted Christy’s car in the distance, he felt something he’d never experienced before and didn’t even know what to call it. It rose up from the pit of his stomach and grabbed hold of his heart so tightly, he felt physical pain. He then identified the feeling. It was fear. What was Christy, his Christy, doing at the camp?

He pulled in beside her car and, grabbing his machete, jumped out without putting his truck in park. He didn’t notice when it rolled and bumped into the front of the office. It was an eerily quiet night and he could hear voices coming from the back of the camp. He also saw where a motion light must’ve been triggered and he ran toward it, only stopping to grab his ax from a stump. His horror intensified when he recognized pieces of Christy’s clothing strewn along the ground. He rounded the side of one of the bunkhouses and stopped. A flood light from the corner of the building illuminated the scene before him. It only took seconds for him to assess what he was seeing. Fury so intense he thought his veins would explode instantly replaced the fear.

Andrew let go of Christy’s thigh and pulled a knife from his belt. He threw it at the man who'd tried to rush him, hitting him in the eye. The man crumpled to the ground. He returned his hand to Christy’s right thigh and repeated, “I’m still deciding what part of your body I’m going to take a bite out of. And after I do, like I said, I’m going to chew on it for a while and spit it back in your face all while I’m fu—”

“Do it already!” she screamed, interrupting him. “You’re a coward. You’re nothing but a coward!”

She knew he was doing it on purpose. Dragging out the description of what he was going to do was almost worse than him actually doing it. She was going to die tonight, but she wouldn’t do it cowering to him. She would never give him that satisfaction.

Her tormentor’s anger was immediate and raw, and he let go of her thighs and started to move up her body.

She refused to close her eyes as she watched him approach. Then she heard a strange sound and the expression on his face changed. His eyes went wide, and he looked confused. He tried to sit up and fell over. The man who’d been holding her hands above her head stood, and Christy heard him grunt before falling backward and hitting the ground. She sat up awkwardly, and that’s when she saw him.

It was Anthony coming toward them, and she’d never seen him so enraged. Not even when he collected her at the Glades Motel did she see him this incensed. She was momentarily startled by the brutal hatred she witnessed on his face. She chanced a glance at Andrew who was struggling to sit up. He was clumsily trying to reach around to his back with his left hand. It was then that she saw the ax that was protruding from it. She turned around and saw the man who’d been holding her down. A huge knife was sticking out of his shoulder, and he was trying to stand up. She watched as Anthony approached the third man. He was backing up slowly and tripped over the man Andrew had killed. He was crab-walking backward and shouting, “I didn’t touch her. I didn’t touch her!”

Anthony looked over at Christy and asked, “Did he?”

She was momentarily stunned by what she recognized in his eyes. These weren’t the bottomless black eyes that showed no emotion. These eyes were filled with rage so fierce, she felt them pierce her own.

“Did he lay a hand on you? Did he touch you in any way?” Anthony yelled.

She shook her head.

Anthony turned back to the man. “The only reason you’ll get a quick death is because you didn’t touch her,” he said, his voice so low and menacing Christy barely heard him. Before the man could object, Anthony used his machete to stab him in the heart.

He then walked over to Andrew and pulled the ax from his back. He stared down at the man who was in obvious pain and said, “I purposely threw it to stop you. Not to kill you.”

Andrew didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything. He looked up, his once malevolent eyes now filled with pure terror.

“I heard what you said to my woman,” he growled. “I have something special planned for you,” Anthony spat before bringing the machete handle down on his head.

Anthony then noticed the man with the knife in his shoulder staggering away toward the motorcycles. He followed him and spun him around. He pulled out the knife and used it to slice open the front of his jeans. The man was hurting from his shoulder wound and too stunned to put up any resistance. His eyes widened when a white-hot pain like he’d never felt before caused him to fall to his knees. He grabbed his groin at the same moment he vomited on himself.

Anthony roughly grabbed him by his chin and forced him to look up. Squeezing his jaw so that he had to open his mouth, Anthony shoved his genitals inside. “You shouldn’t have had your hands on her when I showed up,” Anthony hissed as he stood over the terrified man, purposely clamping his jaw shut. He watched the man’s eyes bulging out as he gasped for air. Too impatient to wait for him to suffocate, Anthony stabbed him in the ear.

When he was dead, Anthony cleaned the knife on the man’s shirt and stuck it in his boot. He picked up his ax and his machete as he made his way toward Christy. She had retrieved some of her clothes and was shakily trying to put them on.

She couldn’t bring herself to watch what Anthony was doing to the man who’d held her down, so she refused to look his way as she gathered her things. She’d managed to get her panties and shirt on when she sensed him. He was walking toward her, an ax in one hand and a machete in the other. His clothes were spattered with blood, and a gust of wind caused his long black hair to swirl around him.

“Christy…” he started to say, but she cut him off.

“You! You stay away from me, Anthony Bear. Don’t you come near me!” she screamed as she tried to pull her shorts on.

He froze in place, not sure of what he was hearing.

“Was this your plan all along?” she cried, as she fumbled to zip her shorts. “Let me guess. You had one of your people create a fake marriage certificate. Then you planned with your girlfriend to lure me here to kill me!”

He couldn’t believe what she was saying. She thought he’d planned this? And what did she mean by his girlfriend? She was hysterical, and she had every right to be, but what was she talking about? He moved toward her, and she backed away, the expression in her eyes a combination of fright, disgust, and determination.

Anthony threw down his ax and machete and lunged for her, pulling her close and holding her hard against his chest. She tried to fight him, but he was holding her too tightly.

“Tell me! Was this your plan from the beginning?” she sobbed into his chest. “Like you told Van’s goons that day? You were going to marry me. So, what does that mean? That there’s some paper somewhere saying we’re married and after you get rid of me you inherit my money?”

“Shh...shh...shh,” he whispered into her hair. “I don’t want or need your money, Christy.” As he suspected, she’d heard him tell the two lawyers that he was going to marry her. He’d expected her to turn on the surveillance camera when she was holed up in the hidden room. What he wasn’t sure of was whether she’d figured out how to turn on the hidden microphones since he’d never shown them to her. And now he knew she had. He stroked her hair softly and started saying soothing words in his native language.

There was something familiar about the words, and she realized she’d heard them before. She knew then her accusations were unfounded. She knew he could never, would never do those things to her. If he wanted her dead, she had no doubt she’d already be dead. She cried into his chest, and when she finally pulled back and looked up at him, he wiped her cheek where blood from his shirt had left a smear.

“You know none of that’s true, Christy,” he told her, his voice so tender it penetrated her heart. He would wait until he got her home to explain that their night in the Everglades was more than an overnight camping trip. In keeping with a Native American custom, he'd married her that night. The white blanket they shared represented the beginning of their new life together. He deliberately wed her in the Cherokee tradition so he could tell her after she accepted his formal proposal that he'd already married her to prove his true love. That taking her as his wife had nothing to do with trust funds or bank accounts. However, she'd thrown him a curve ball when she refused his proposal. He wanted to make it official on paper because he loved and wanted to protect her. Not because he was trying to get his hands on her money.

"I'm sorry, Owani. I've done nothing but give you my word that you were safe with me and it obviously wasn't true. What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

Instead of answering his question, she posed one of her own. "Why would Dr. Dubois do this?" She looked up at him, her eyes sad and confused. "Why would she lure me to the camp?”

Veronique. He gritted his teeth and told Christy, “I don’t know, but you can be sure I’ll find out.”

They were interrupted when a sleepy voice said, “What in the world happened here?”

They both looked over at a man who was walking toward them. “I just got up to take a dump and looked out the window.” His voice sounded groggy.

Without taking his eyes off John, Anthony asked Christy, “Was he one of them?”

“One of what?” John looked anxious. He was instantly wide awake.

“No,” Christy answered. “It was only the four of them.”

“Did you page me, John?” Anthony asked.

“No,” John answered, shaking his head. “I’ve been asleep. It wasn’t me.”

“Get the big one tied up and take him to the chow hall,” Anthony ordered. “He’s still alive, and I don’t want him going anywhere.”

He then turned to Christy and scooped her up into his arms. “Let’s get you inside, Owani,” he told her. “I still need to find out who sent me the page that saved your life.”