In the morning, the sound of heavy rainfall beating the earth outside stirred her from her slumber, but it was the sharp bite of instinct that snapped her fully awake.

Strange eyes stared down at her. Menacing eyes.

Adrenaline went off like a shot in her bloodstream. She kicked back to her headboard.

The strange man took several steps back and lifted the gun in his right hand. She froze, eyeing that barrel with a laser focus, as if by doing so she could mentally keep it from firing.

After a frightened moment, her gaze traveled back to the man. Recognition crushed over her like a monstrous avalanche. The hunter from the mountain.

“What do you want?” she asked weakly.

The hunter gave her a tooth-decayed grin. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Why? Leave me alone.” That barrel was still trained on her, square between the eyes. “I have very powerful friends. They’d kill you if you do anything to me.”

“They’ll never find you,” he replied ominously, a maddened shine to his bloodshot eyes. She saw the shadow of her doom in those eyes.

She forced herself to remain outwardly calm, though her blood rushed like the running of the bulls, tearing its way through her veins. “Please. Put the gun down. You don’t want to do this.”

He glanced at the weapon in his hand. A crease formed between his brows as though he’d momentarily forgotten he had it. His finger eased off the trigger. “Yes. Too soon for this. We haven’t had our fun yet.”

A sick feeling turned in her stomach.

He jerked the tip of his gun toward her door. “Get moving.” In the living room, he pointed to a stool next to the breakfast bar. “Sit.”

Mind racing, she eased onto the stool. What do I do? She focused on the gun. If only she could safely get that weapon away from him? Could I attack? His finger was dangerously close to that trigger.

Cortez might never know what happened to her—if this man was to be believed.

He began rummaging through her fridge one-handed, intermittently peeking back at her to make sure she stayed where she was. If he turned his back again, could she make it around this counter and slam his head in the door? And avoid getting shot in the process? She didn’t have high odds. The probability of knocking him out was slim as well.

Before she could muster the courage, he pulled out a wrapped plate of old cooked chicken that must have been in there for two weeks at least. He didn’t seem to mind, tearing away the plastic, curling one meaty fist around an icy hunk of meat, and shoving it in his mouth. He pushed the plate toward her, mouthing around the bite. “Want some?”

She shook her head.

He shrugged and yanked the plate back.

Absently, he muttered. “All them damn vampires around you all the time. Couldn’t get close. Finally got my hands on the rounds that could take them fuckers out.” He glanced over at the front entrance. Next to it, a rifle rested against the wall. “Turns out I just needed to be patient.” He shoved another hunk of cold meat into his mouth, chewing loudly.

Her eyes darted nervously, seeking some kind of weapon. Nothing was near. “You’ve been enthralled. You can fight this.”

“Enthralled?” Confusion spread over his features.

“Yes. Because you heard me singing that night. I’m a siren. I didn’t mean to enthrall you. But you see, it was an accident. You can fight it. You don’t have to do anything you’ll regret. Just let me go.”

His gaze narrowed. “Was I enthralled with all the others, too?”

Mallet blow to the gut. “W-What others?”

“The other girls Billy and I took up the mountain. The six before you. It was nice when they screamed. Was I enthralled then?”

Oh god. “I-I—”

The gun swung her way again. “Perhaps this ends with you, then. It’s your fault I’m this way. And those damn bitches.”

Her pulse palpitated. Keep him talking. “Billy? Is that the man you killed? Was he your friend?”

Slow nod. “Our tastes ran the same.” He seemed to lose interest in the conversation. “Get up. We have a long hike ahead of us.”

No, no, no! Can’t go with him.

Her cell phone rang.

She jumped; he stiffened.

They stared at each other for a tense moment as the ringer blared once, twice, three times.

“If I don’t answer, someone will come looking for me,” she told him with unquestionable confidence, though she was unsure if that was true. Would Cortez send Donovan to see if she was alright or just call back later. He had no reason to suspect the danger she was in.

The hunter eyed her suspiciously for a second, then said, “Whoever it is, get rid of them. Warn them in any way and I’ll shoot you now, and kill them later.”

Shakily, she answered. “Hello?”

At her uneasy voice, the hunter’s eyes split into threatening slits. He walked around the counter and placed the barrel against her temple, then leaned close to listen in, his rancid breath wafting over her.

“Naia?” Cortez said. “Cole has fed. Would you like to come see him? Afterward we can...uh...can we talk some more?”

The hunter slowly shook his head. She thought of his threat with the rounds that could take out vampires. She’d heard of such things. Ammo like that was illegal, but could still be acquired, given the right connections.

“I can’t right now,” she said.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

The warning in the hunter’s eyes turned deadly.

“Goldie’s here. She’s still a little freaked out and wants to chat.”

“Goldie is there? I could have sworn I just saw her around here somewhere.”

The finger on that trigger grew tight. “She just arrived. I’ll stop by a little later, okay?” Then she had a flash of brilliance. “I’ll bring some of that butterscotch Cole likes.”

Please remember.

“I doubt he’ll be interested in sweets for at least a year. Say hi to Goldie for me. Call me when you’re ready and I’ll send Donovan over to pick you up.”

Her heart sank. “Yeah, okay.” I may never see you again. “Cortez, I...I love you.”

There was silence on the other end as she watched the hunter’s eyes go from mild madness to off the rails pissed. That barrel dug painfully into her scalp, thrusting her head to the side. She closed her eyes and held her breath.

“I love you too, Naia. See you later.” The line went dead.

The hunter took the phone and then smashed it on the countertop. The sudden ferocity seized her lungs, and she shook violently. A stray tear dove from her lower lid. She wasn’t sure if that salty drop had manifested out of fear or because that was the first, and probably the last, time she’d hear Cortez tell her he loved her.

The hunter waved his gun through the air, his voice booming. “Get up. Let’s go.” Not taking his eyes off her, he retrieved his rifle.

“Where are we going?”

“Move,” he barked. “Out the back.”

“I don’t have shoes on.”

Don’t give a shit, his eyes said.

With her in the lead, she opened the sliding glass door. Over the years, she’d learned to avoid the little metal sliver in the frame that often snagged her clothes and skin. Now she aimed right for it. As she stepped through the threshold, she reached up and sliced her finger on it. Blood welled. She surreptitiously flicked splatters of red on the ground.

The gun nudged her in the back, but the hunter didn’t seem to notice what she was doing, only that she had hesitated.

She stepped out onto the porch and then past the covered terrace. Raindrops clung to her hair like glossy beads, poking damp spots in her shoulders and stabbing her bare legs with icy pinpricks. When he guided her toward the forest, she suddenly knew where he was taking her. Up the mountain. To his camp site...where six others had likely never returned.

Driven by instinct, she faked a stumble to plant more blood at the entrance to the pathway.

The rain came down harder.

Damn.

It might wash away the scent of her blood.

For good measure, she feigned a stumble and ripped her mother’s necklace from her neck, and planted it just under the umbrella of a shrub with a smear of her blood. She’d leave a trail as best she could. If for no other reason that Cortez would find her remains so that neither he nor Cole would be tormented with never knowing what had become of her. Wondering for the rest of their days. Poor Cole would blame himself, like he had with their mother.

“Get up,” the hunter snapped, gripping her by the arm and yanking her to her feet. He shoved her forward with a warning. “I’m on to that stumbling bit you females like to do. Do it again and you’ll be hiking with a gunshot wound.”

“It’s raining, and the path is slippery.”

He shoved her hard again, and this time she really did lose her footing. She crashed down on her shoulder, cutting the skin on a jutting rock. More blood poured into the tiny rivulets made by the rain. Way to help a girl out, buddy.

“Maybe I’ll make you crawl all the way there.”

She stood and started walking, ignoring his threat. As she went, she pretended to hold her wound as though it pained her, which it did. Stuffed with gravel, it hurt like hell, but her true intention was to transfer blood to her fingers and then wipe it on the undersides of leaves that she passed where the rain couldn’t quickly eliminate them.

Cortez might have deciphered her code, figuring she was in danger, but then again, he might not have. He hadn’t sounded concerned on the other end of the line. Actually, he’d seemed almost upbeat. Because he thought they were going to talk some more? Her heart wanted to break.

Time elapsed as she trekked through the rain with an armed madman behind her who got a kick out of her now very real struggle not to slip and fall. He probably thought it was out of fear of his threat, when in fact she was bleeding quite well from her shoulder and didn’t need any more gashes. Her blood now ran freely down her arm to her fingers where she could flick it all over the forest like a grisly Jackson Pollock.

Never thought I’d be grateful to be sliced open.

Her thoughts shifted wildly between survival strategies (none making the cut), scenarios of her upcoming death (all bad), and how devastated Cole and Cortez were going to be if the hunter was allowed to go through with whatever sick thing he had planned (they’d be wracked with grief).

Part of her, the part that clung to the naive belief that everything happened for a reason and that things would always work out in the end, wanted to believe Cortez was on his way to save her even now. The other part of her, the prudent, shrewd bitch that maintained life sucks and then you die, understood she was on her own. If she was going to survive, she was going to have to fight for her life. But the hunter was armed, and she wasn’t. Even if he wasn’t, he had a few hundred pounds on her. He was plump, but she could tell it was a solid type of plump. One hit from him, and she’d be down for the count. She’d have to catch him off guard.

“Almost there now,” the hunter said, mostly to himself.

Have to stall.

The rain was now a twofold attack, it both came at her from the sky in large wet, frigid drops, and ran at her feet in ever-growing streams that wanted to pull her legs out from under her. The mud was softening, coating her up to the ankles. The bottoms of her feet were torn up from the unforgiving gravel, but they were so numb, she could barely feel them.

Thinking fast, she let her leg twist in an awkward position, and then dropped to the ground, feigning a sprained ankle. “Ow! Can we stop for a minute? I hurt myself.”

“Tough shit. No stopping.”

Shuffling to a nearby tree, she used it to pull herself up and then leaned on it, grabbing her ankle, pretending to be in excruciating pain. She surreptitiously glanced back at him. He was on an incline, but too far away for a quick attack. If he were closer, she could try for a flat-footed kick to his chest, knocking him off balance, maybe he’d fall back and crack his skull on a rock. But right now, he’d see it coming.

“I said no stopping.”

“It hurts really bad.”

He angled the gun at her.

“Okay, okay.”

She continued up the hill with a fake limp. “So, if you and Billy both brought girls up here together, why did you kill him?”

“He used the girls up too fast and was a greedy fuck. He wanted you for himself. I wasn’t about to share. I saw you first.”

She feigned outrage. “The guy didn’t respect the sanctity of dibs? Well then, he had it coming, I guess.”

The hunter threw his head back and roared with laughter.

Now’s my chance.

She twirled around, braced herself, and kicked out with her heel. She caught him in the throat. Wide-eyed and choking, he grabbed his throat and fell backward exactly as she’d envisioned, but so much force went into her kick that she lost her footing as well and went tumbling after him. Together they slid down the mud-slicked path. Fiery pain scored her right leg and straight up the side of her back. She grappled for purchase, but found none and barreled into him when he came to a crashing halt. Flat on his back, he gasped for air, red-faced and madder than ever. For a moment, he struggled like a toppled turtle.

Without thinking, she lunged for the gun in his loosened grip. His hold on it tightened like stone. Though he sputtered and sucked in air, he was still stronger than her. The gun was ripped away and the butt smashed against her temple.

Nauseous dizziness swam in her head. The world spun, taking her balance with it. She fell to the ground, blinking rapidly in a desperate attempt to stay conscious. Her vision dimmed, returned, blurred, and dimmed again. Mini explosions of light stabbed her eyes whenever she opened them.

Have to get up, she thought, but couldn’t remember why. Why am I so cold? She absently reached out, feeling a wet gritty substance. Where am I?

A pair of deep resonating baritones alerted her to people around her. She attempted to lift her head, finding it impossible.

“…back! Stay back,” someone said. “I can take your heads off with this.”

Confusion danced with nausea. Who was that speaking?

“We’re not leaving here without her,” another voice said, this one familiar. She held a great affection for the owner of that voice. What was his name? A snapshot of his beautiful face flashed in her mind. Her eyes squinted open, desperate to see him, but he looked…strange. So pale and fraught with worry. His palms were up in the air, though his body seemed taut as if ready to lunge.

Her gaze traveled to a set of men flanking him a few yards back, then to the large man standing over her, pointing a dark black stick at the three. No, a rifle. Aimed at Cortez!

And then it happened.

The hunter fired.

Cortez fell back.

The piercing scream that tore from her lungs warped the air in explosive ripples. Raindrops pitched in all directions, creating a bubble around them.

The hunter dropped his gun to cover his ears, his eyes bulging as her strident bellow blasted his eardrums. Face twisting in agony, he fell to his knees, and with painful-looking effort strained his neck her way.

She reveled in the terror hunched behind his horrified gaze, the same kind of terror he’d inflicted on so many others. And like so many others, he begged for mercy, but mercy was a mirage at the edge of a desert. She was both unwilling and incapable of granting his wish as revenge grew into a beast she could no longer control.

The caustic sound emanating from her was something dark and twisted, a splintered mutation of righteous anger, a death note, grating and riotous and bloodthirsty. For the first time in her life, the siren in her clamored to take a life.

And she obeyed, giving her voice the freedom to do as it will.

The hunter’s skin grew jaundice and taut, his cheeks hollowing, lower lids drooping grotesquely. His eyeballs rolled back in this head. Blood dripped from his nose and the corners of his mouth. The pigment in his stringy hair disintegrated, the strands becoming brittle and white.

A fierce tremor rolled through him, seizing his muscles and snapping his bones. Finally his arms dropped to his sides, his face slackened, and like a felled tree, he flopped forward, lifeless, his front sinking into the mud.

Her grisly song died out then, and she too sank down, her cheek resting in the grainy muck. Raindrops resumed pelting her, mixing with her tears. Bile churned in her gut as darkness encroached, her vision murky.

Movement blurred in front of her, and a face appeared. Not the one she wanted to see. Donovan’s voice echoed as though from the end of a tunnel. “You’ll be okay. Naia? Stay with me.” In the next instant, she fell into oblivion.