❝Marco was never supposed to find out the truth. But then he did, and now he's on the run. Problem is, the truth has fangs and it won't stop until it hunts him down.❞
To Marco Castillo, Whispering Pines has always been more than just a national park...
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CHRIS HEARTLY never thought he'd die like this. Twenty years of hiking and he'd never had so much as a sprained ankle. He'd even managed to climb Mount Everest back in his prime- but now it was taking everything in him just to stumble forward. It was taking even more not to scream.
Avid hiker or not, cardio didn't matter jack shit after being stabbed.
The trail, now narrow and slick with his blood, fought against every step. The boots he wore were all but useless, the nonexistent tread letting the snow glide straight through as he advanced. His muscles burned, screaming at him to stop - but he couldn't. Stopping would be a death sentence. Adrenaline was the only thing that kept him going - that, and the knowledge that if he was caught by a ranger he'd be dead for sure.
After all, no one would let a piece of shit like him go free. Not this time. No, the only way he was going to get out of these woods was either by sheer luck or in a body-bag.
Steam poured from his broken mouth as Chris dragged his useless leg behind him. His hand was pressed firmly against the knife wound on his thigh as he ducked below snow-covered branches. Snow crunched underneath his stolen boots. The snow was left flecked crimson as each jolt tore further at his already ruined leg.
The foggy winter night wrapped tightly around him and stung his lungs painfully with each rasping breath.
In the distance, behind countless rows of pine, headlights cut through the darkness.
He began to shamble faster.
Chris wasn't about to let one night gone wrong end his fun. Not yet. Not like this. Not before getting laid at least once in his miserable life.
He'd ventured out to the woods on such a snowy night to do just that. He'd staked out a cabin far out by the edge of the woods, hoping the winter wonderland would help set the mood for some unsuspecting tourist. It worked, and to his delight, she had come alone. A woman. Tall, red-headed, and utterly alone.
But his plan had gone horribly wrong.
Chris knew he wasn't a good man, but he didn't think he deserved this. Maybe he deserved being stabbed in the thigh when he tried to force his way into the cabin, claiming to be a ranger. Maybe he deserved losing his front teeth to her fists. Maybe he'd even deserved it when his target stole his car to get away, leaving him stranded and bleeding at the edge of a wolf preserve. But Chris didn't think he deserved to die like this.
No, he refused to die like this.
With his truck, Chris didn't give a shit about the forest. His truck was practically a tank! But now that he was bleeding, weaponless, with trees tall around him with who-knew-what hiding in them, Chris found a new chill creeping up his spine. One that wasn't from the blood-loss. The park rangers had left warning signs, and as Chris continued to stumble further into the woods, desperate to get away, he was starting to understand why.
