Page 28 of Vengeance

She wanted to scream. "There has to be somewhere." He reached slowly into the inside pocket of his kutte, and she noticed how his hand trembled. When he finally pulled it free, there was a folded piece of paper stained with blood.

"Call this number." She unfolded it. There was only one name.Doc Mercer,and underneath his name was a phone number.

"Who's Doc Mercer?"

"Friend,” Vengeance whispered.

"You trust him?"

"With my life."

She stared at the paper. "That's saying a lot."

"It is,” he said.

She looked around. "I don't have a phone."

He almost smiled. "I noticed."

His burner phone, the one he'd thrown into the creek, was gone. "Damn it." She stood so quickly that her knees nearly gave out. Think, think, think. Her eyes landed on Lucius's abandoned rifle and the SUV tracks that he left behind. Then, she noticed the old man's tire marks. He'd gone toward the highway, and if she hurried, she might be able to find help there.

"Stay here,” she ordered.

Vengeance grabbed her wrist. "No."

"I'll be right back,” she promised, but had no idea if she’d be able to keep that promise or not.

"No,” he breathed again.

"You need help." His grip tightened despite the blood loss.

"If you leave—” His voice was barely above a whisper. "They’ll find you." She looked toward the dark woods. He wasn't wrong.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked.

He slowly released her. "There." He nodded toward the bridge, and tucked behind one of the support columns sat a weathered green metal box she'd completely overlooked.

She frowned. "What is that?"

"Railroad emergency phone."

Her eyes widened. "Those still work?"

"If we're lucky,” he whispered. She sprinted across the gravel to the old metal box. It creaked loudly when she opened it, and inside sat an ancient emergency handset. She lifted it and put it to her ear, hearing a dial tone.

"Oh, thank God." Hands shaking, she punched in the number from the paper. The phone rang once, twice, and a third time before someone answered.

"What?" The man's voice was gruff.

"I—" Her throat tightened. "I need Doc Mercer."

"Who's asking?" the man growled.

"Chloe Savage.”

"I don't know a Chloe Savage," he said. She looked back toward Vengeance. He was struggling to stay conscious. "It's—” She searched desperately for something to say. "He told me to call you." She looked down at the paper again. “He told me to say—” Nothing came to mind, and then she remembered something—the lighter.

Never Like Him.