Chapter 3 Three

When I'm flat on the ground, safe and slightly uninjured, except for the stinging in the bottom of my feet and ankles from the land, I let out another large breath and scramble off the ground. I don't know where I was running, and I don't remember where they had parked the van if I was even on the right side of the cabin, so I just ran into the forest, and prayed it eventually led to a road.

A few feet back, their voices are louder, and I can tell they have realized I'm outside. If I get lost, it's only a matter of time before one of them finds me and drags me back.

Please, God, let me be running towards the road.

Regardless of whether my prayers are going to be answered, I pick up my knees high and keep running as fast and far as I can. Like in most dramatic chase scenes, I don't look where I'm going, and trip right over a fallen tree, heading face-first into the dirt and grass. I cry out when my ankle twists against the wood, stinging even more. It's hopeless to try and run now.

I try to stand and put pressure on it, but pain shoots up my leg, feeling like daggers piercing my bones from the inside. I bite my lip to hold back another cry, hoping I am at least deep enough in the woods, that they won't find me for a while. I limp over to the fallen tree and crouch on the ground behind it, closing my eyes and trying to nurse my foot at least a little, enough to continue running.

My breathing is shallow, telling me I'm not in shape enough to continue running aimlessly, I must try and think of a plan to find my way out before one of them finds me. Something tells me the man who was with me last night is good at tracking people, and he was the first to discover I was gone. He should be close behind me, I'm not a very fast runner, and he is at least 5 foot 10 in height, very tall compared to my short 5-foot-2 body.

I wiggle my toes, happy that it doesn't hurt to move them before I turn my ankle and test it out again. It still hurts to put pressure on it, but now I can put enough to slowly limp and run towards my right. I send another silent prayer that I'm not running right into one of them but know I have to change my direction if I hope to find a sense of where the road is. I stop and lean on trees to catch my breath and give my stronger foot a break from taking most of the pressure.

If I keep stopping like this, they're going to catch up.

I have to keep pushing forward, no matter how much the pain hurts. I push down harder on my foot and continue to bite my lip as I trudge on, much more aware of my surroundings. Just as I started to feel confident that I was getting farther, a voice cried out from behind me.

"Ava don't make this harder than it has to be. If you keep running, I'm going to have to kill you." It's the blue-eyed man, I know it. His threat quickens my pace, but after a few heavy strokes, the pain is too much, and I cry out as I fall to the ground. I begin to panic again when the sounds of running footsteps grow closer, and his face is in front of mine within minutes.

"Are you crazy? Why are you fighting this so much? We aren't going to hurt you, we just want to get to your parents," he growls as he reaches for me.

"Don't touch me!" I scream and try to back away from him. I mistakenly use my sprained foot and can't stop the cry that whimpers out from the pain. His face suddenly turns scared, and he looks me over.

"Where are you hurt? What happened?" he asks, reaching for me again.

"I said don't touch me, I don't want your help," I whimper.

"Please, you're hurt, and I need to know where so I can help take the pain away. I'm not going to hurt you, Ava."

"You said you have to kill me."

He lets out a frustrated breath. "I'm sorry, alright? If I don't get you back to my employer without a scratch on you, I'm going to be in major trouble, more than you think you are."

"What makes you think I care about your well-being?" I sneer, still wincing from the shooting pain.

"Can you please just let me help you? I'm taking you back to the cabin, whether you like it or not. Since you're injured, I would much rather do it the easy way," he huffs. He has clearly run more than he thought he could handle. I give myself another silent pat on the back for making him work to catch me, but still curse myself a little for being so blind and tripping like a cliché dumb chick in a horror flick. I would be the first to die.

After contemplating the chances of pushing him to the ground, taking advantage of his weakness, and making a run for it, I also considered the fact that he is just breathless, while I am almost completely unable to walk, let alone take off as fast as I can. I give in to his outstretched hand and allow him to slowly help me off the ground. Before I can test my weight on the sprained ankle, he picks me up swiftly and starts trudging back through the forest.

"Is this really necessary?" I mutter, feeling the blush creep on my face and neck. I am so easily embarrassed, and I always show it.

"You can barely walk; we're never going to make it back if you try and limp the entire way. This is much easier and time efficient. If you hadn't smelt it before, we had bacon and eggs cooking for breakfast, and I would very much like some," he mumbles as he continues his quickened pace over the damp leaves and twigs, covered in fresh morning dew.

I huff but take advantage of not having to put my ankle through any more pain, it's already throbbing enough. We quickly arrive back at the cabin, where Lucas and the other man are waiting on the steps.

"Glad you found her," the other man says. I had a clear view of what he looked like now, and I was surprised to point out the resemblance to the man carrying me almost right away. His eyes aren't as intense as blue, they are a softer, darker colour, but he has the same high cheekbones and chiselled jaw, with slightly lighter hair. He is a little more built, and the amount of facial hair that covers his chin and upper lip told me he might be the older brother if they are related.

"It wasn't easy, she sprained her ankle I think."

"For Christ sake, why did you have to go and do that? I don't think we have anything to tend to that," he complains and throws his hands up.

"Are you two related?" The question flies out of my mouth before it can register. They both look at me incredulously.

"How did you know?" the man carrying me asks.

"You guys kind of look alike," I shrug. They glare at me.

"No, we don't," they exclaim in unison. That gives away that they are siblings and tells me that there's a possibility they didn't get along when they were younger.

"That's Charles," Lucas pipes in and points to the man in front of me. "And that's Ashton, the younger brother." He points to the gorgeous blue-eyed man carrying me. Even his name is handsome in a way. As an avid reader, some names stand out to me, and his name is one of them.

"Lucas, what did I say about revealing personal information?" Ashton growls, still holding me in his arms.

Lucas rolls his eyes. "We cooked her breakfast, and you're carrying her like your God damn wife. The least she can know is your name."

I feel Ashton's arms tense around me before he practically drops me to the ground. I drop to the dirt with a soft thud, thankful I don't land on my ankle in any way, but now my ass hurts.

"You didn't have to do that," Lucas frowns and rushes to help me up. He slings my arm over his shoulder and helps me walk up the stairs into the kitchen. Neatly prepared plates and utensils are laid out on the dining room table, enough for all of us.

"I'm sitting with you?" I ask.

"Of course, we aren't mean people, just committing a mean crime," Lucas says and stops to think what he said over. "If that makes you feel any better," he adds hopefully, dropping me down in one of the chairs gently.

"I can't really say how I feel right now," I murmur. I just tried to escape, but here they are acting like nothing is wrong. In fact, they helped me all the way back, instead of dragging me like a rag doll, and are now feeding me a feast for breakfast. They have everything you could name that you would want to have for breakfast on the table, waffles and pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns. They even have toppings for the waffles and pancakes, like blueberries and cut-up strawberries.

"Is this for real?" I ask, trying to keep my jaw from dropping to the table. I didn't even eat like this at home with my parents, and I thought we had over-the-top breakfasts. That is nothing compared to the whole feast in front of me, I didn't know where to start.

"Too much for you?" Charles asks, already digging into a piece of bacon.

"To be quite honest, a little, and not just the food," I say and frown at everything in front of me. "I don't think most victims get treated like this when they are kidnapped."

"Well, we aren't like most criminals, we're bounty hunters," Ashton says blankly, as if he is talking about the weather.

Bounty hunters? Is he serious?

"Why the hell am I a target?"

"You'll find out when we finally get you back to our employer, so he can explain why he wants you, and what he wants you for. Other than that, we don't know anything other than your name, address, school name and address, and the name of your parents and best friend. Sebastian, is it?" Ashton asks, giving me a wide grin that shakes me to my soul.

"How do you know all of that?" I whisper.

"Like he said, we're bounty hunters. It's our job to know everything about the person we're trying to track down and capture. We followed you for about a week, watching which routes you took to and from school, seeing how often you travelled those paths and how long it took you. It took us only a week to figure out your schedule and see how many times you went to see that friend of yours. We found out his name when you screamed it," Charles says and winks at me, sending another shiver down my spine.

These guys are maniacs and stalkers!