Little Miss Nosy

Chapter Thirty-One: Caught in the Crossfire

- Edited -

Ashton and I break apart. My head collides with the tree trunk as I duck narrowly missing what I'm now sure are bullets as one strikes where I just stood. Wood chips and dust rain around me as a piercing scream escapes my lips.

I'm going to die!

Fear paralyzes my limbs as I crouch, head tucked protectively between my arms while that phrase circles my mind.

Someone—Ashton—grabs my upper arm. He yanks me up and towards another tree with a thicker trunk. More cover. Yet the bullets don't let up. I don't dodge because I'm unsure of where they're coming from and with my luck, I'd move a foot to the left and end up in the path of the deadly shot.

We fall to the ground but before I touch the dirt a sharp sting pulls another scream out of me; though this one is out of pain.

"M-my arm!" I pull my hand away from my upper arm. The palm stained in blood trembles before me as I glance towards Ashton. He eyes my wound with furrowed brows and a slack jaw before he shakes his head. Trying to remember where we are and what's going on as he slings his backpack off his shoulder.

"What are you-" The final word catches in my throat as he pulls out a weapon of his own. "Ashton!"

Dirt scatters as a bullet hits the earth next to me. Though bullets continue to fire around us, Ashton remains unflinching as he cocks the gun and aims around the tree.

"Ashton!" I scream over the continuous pops that fire around us. But I don't need to. The forest goes quiet before I call out for him, and his name ricochets off the trees in place of the bullets as all is quiet.

He cautiously glances over his shoulder to make sure I'm still there, uninjured...or not anymore injured than I already am, before repositioning his arms.

"Who's doing this to us?" I whisper.

"I don't know."

A few seconds of silence remain before a whistle sounds from across the clearing. It's not a tune but a signal; short and quick. People emerge from behind trees to surround us on all sides. They range in age but all sport dark clothing. I make eye contact with one of them and vaguely recall her from the night I witnessed that nightmare in the warehouse.

I grab the sleeve of Ashton's hoodie and shake. "Jacob."

"Come out, Ashton." But the voice doesn't belong to Jacob. It's still eerily familiar.

"Thorne! What the hell?!" Ashton shoves the gun back in his backpack and stands. Trudges over to the middle of the clearing with me right on his heels. I do a three-sixty and see the multitude of neutral faces coming forward. All except one. His face is contorted in a sneer as he looks past Ashton and glares at me.

He was also there that night. The one I keyed in the face.

"Do you know what you could've done?" Ashton seethes. He looks at me, face softening for a fraction of a second before it hardens again to stare down Thorne. I've experienced part of that anger the night I separated him and Logan at the football game. It was heart-wrenching to be at the receiving end of that look. I thought it couldn't get worse. But I believe I'm in a better spot, bleeding out of my left arm and all, than I would be in Thorne's shoes.

"We never intended to hurt anyone. Maybe you...but not the girl." His dark eyes find mine. "Hello again, sunshine." He tucks his gun in his waistband holster and begins to button his suit jacket.

"Hello! I'm hurt over here," I say, waving my left arm while still covering its wound.

"Sorry about that." His tone tells me he is anything but apologetic. "This one got trigger happy."