Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
“You’re full of shit,” I said, trying to gauge his reaction. Maybe Martin did know how to fight, but if he was so confident in his ability to kick my ass, why did he waste so much energy running?
“You got lucky at the campsite, caught us off guard when we were too distracted by your kid’s tight pussy. But that won’t happen out here. It’s just you and me.”
I barely dodged his right hook. Okay, maybe he wasn’t bluffing. I didn’t have any formal training myself, but what I did have was more important. I had something worth fighting for, someone depending on me. I had to get back to the tower before Duke found Willow, which meant I needed to put an end to Martin quickly.
With that thought in mind, I took a swing at him. He managed to duck, and I stumbled. Martin jammed his boot into the side of my knee. I cursed as I went down, pain radiating throughout my leg. This fucker wasn’t holding back. I had to roll toward the steaming hot spring to avoid a kick to my already battered face.
With the arrival of the dawn, I could now clearly see the bright orange ring around the edge of the pool, and the rolling boil spitting foam at its center. Stones glinted in the loose dirt close to my face. Martin moved to straddle me just as I grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it at his face.
“Shit,” he cried out, covering his eyes.
Taking advantage of his impaired vision, I shoved him away, slipping out of his reach. He rubbed his eyes and staggered to his feet.
“Hey, asshole,” he shouted, throwing punches at the wind when he thought he could sense me nearby. “You’re wasting your time on me. Duke’s probably got your girl on her knees already.”
Technically, Martin was right. I needed to get back to Willow. In an instant, the solution to my current problem became clear as a crystal spring.
“You’re right,” I said. “It’s time to end this.”
Charging forward, I rammed him with my shoulder, sending him flying into the hot spring. I scrambled back to avoid being splashed by the scalding water. Martin flailed and shrieked, struggling to swim in the shallow water. But the superheated temperatures fried his nerves and he quickly lost control of his limbs.
I’d heard a story once about a hiker who slipped and fell into one of these hot springs. He died almost instantly. Due to the acidity, his body dissolved before rescuers could fish out his remains.
Martin’s screams only lasted a few seconds.
When I was sure that he wasn’t coming out of there uncooked, I turned and sprinted back toward the tower. I didn’t have a weapon or a plan for facing Duke and I debated whether I should return to Willow or head in the direction that she threw the radio in the hopes of confronting him far away from her. But a high-pitched shout drew me straight to the clearing. I saw the tower in the distance and two figures at the top.
No, no, no. I had to get up there.
I pushed my body to its limits, tearing through the trees as fast as my legs could carry me. A fist closed around my heart as the sounds of the commotion grew closer. Duke was up there with Willow. I watched, helpless once again, as they struggled. It was impossible to make out the details of the fight from the ground. Fear slid down my spine like oil as I leapt onto the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.
Willow screamed. I’d only made it halfway up the tower when I saw a body go flying off the edge of the platform.
For a second, it was only a dark form against the blinding dawn. I clutched the railing—the only thing stopping me from collapsing under the weight of my own fear.
Why did I leave her alone?
Then I heard Duke’s deep bellow of terror.
Relief. That’s what I felt when he landed in the dirt with a sickening thud.
I bolted up the stairs, leaping over Zeb’s dead body without so much as a glance at his ugly corpse. At the top, I found Willow standing on the platform by a section without a rail. She was looking down, unmoving, as her red hair danced in the wind.
“Willow,” I said. She didn’t move. I touched her shoulder, and she spun around, hands poised and ready to strike. I caught her by the wrists. “Baby, it’s me. It’s Dad. You’re okay.”
“Dad…” Blood dripped from a small cut on her bottom lip. She blinked a few times and then sighed, lowering her arms. “I knew you’d come back.”
“Are you okay?” I drew her away from the edge of the platform so that I could look her over somewhere safe. “You’re bleeding.”