Page 41 of Wildling

I drift off to sleep, or at least my mind enters some altered state. The Archer abandoned me here, the thick heat building up under the afternoon sun, creating a greenhouse. Beads of sweat drip down my body, each one a silent release of pent-up tension until I’m left weightless. A deep stillness washes over me, a near-death sense of peace. Yet, every nerve ending hums with intense, aching awareness and primal need. The Archer knew this was precisely what I craved.

I stare at a beam of sunlight as it moves through the slits in the walls across the shed floor. Eventually, that slit of light mutes to chilling darkness. I’m barely aware of soft footsteps that crunch on the ground outside the shed. The sound, however, lurches me back into the land of the living.

The footsteps crunch again. My body jolts when I see an outline in the shadows. A dark essence somewhere beyond. I lift my heavy head. “Frank,” I rasp. “Is that you?”

Crunch…Crunch.

“Frank. If that’s you, please help me. I’m tied up. You need to help me.” A thought dawns on me. Frank can’t see, and if he came all the way here, he knew I was in here and walked by himself out in the dark. He can barely move inside, let alone see where he is going. Perhaps he’s more coherent than he plays off, and perhaps he can see just fine. My hackles raise at another dark thought…Perhaps it’s not Frank at all.

A pause. “Natty, is that you?”

I blow out a breath, suddenly aware of the weight of my body. The pressure might snap my hands from my wrists. I push down my irritation. It’s not Frank’s fault, but deep down he must know I’m not her.

“No, I’m not Natty,” I spit out. “Natty isn’t here, and she’s not coming back. My name is Layla Ashby. Your grandson, Nick, is keeping me captive. Can you help me?”

Silence. Then, “Ashby? You’re the Ashby girl?” The way he says my name…as if he knows me.

“Yes, I’m the Ashby girl.” He knows Nick is alive. He knows what’s happening under his nose, under the ruse of blindness. “Pretending like you don’t know what Nick’s doing to me makes you worse than he is,” I tell him. “That makes you a monster too. He’s torturing me, abusing me, and I want to go home.”

The silent tension causes a twist in my gut.

“If you’re the Ashby girl, then that makes you the monster,” he says darkly. “What did you do to my Natty?”

“Natalie is dead,” I scream, and immediately tears sting the backs of my eyes. “She died months ago, Frank. She was in a car accident and never came home. She’s never coming back. Do you hear me? She’s never coming back.”

“Because you killed her…” he bellows, and those words break my heart. “You killed my Natty and now you need to die.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, the hopelessness of my situation finally hitting me. Frank’s not so innocent either, but it doesn’t mean he’s not confused. There’s still hope. “All you have to do is cut this rope. You can end this, Frank. It can end right now.” If I can make it to the house, I’ll grab the truck keys Nick hides in a drawer. “You don’t have to fully understand this. Tomorrow you’ll wake up, and this will be over. You won’t remember this conversation. But I will…and you have a chance to help me.”

A few seconds pass, and Frank makes no motion. Finally, I dare to say, “Does the name Archer mean anything to you?”

His voice shudders. “What did you say?”

“The Archer. Tell me who he is, Frank. Tell me what happened to Nick to make him this way.”

Frank falls deathly silent, still standing outside the shed. Despite ample opportunity to help, he stands out there, doing nothing.

“Say something,” I beg, my voice coming out broken, my body still dangling. I no longer have the strength to hold my head up.

Finally, Frank says, “If the Archer is hunting you, you need to run. If that boy has a gun on you, he will kill you. But listen closely, Ashby girl. I don’t know why you’re here, or who brought you here, but my grandson, Nick, is dead.”

Chapter 19

Present

The road into town is long and winding, perched high on a mountain ledge overlooking Stormwood. I gaze out the window at the lake, etching itself between giant mountains, carving the valley below. This town is only an hour’s drive from where radar eventually located me, on the corner of Toby Myers’ property deep in the backwoods mountains. A car picked me up this morning, and I went without a fuss. Home is better than a mental hospital, I suppose.

This town couldn’t protect me—I was abducted in plain sight. Although that distinction is blurred, given the Archer is clearly not done hunting me. This is where it all started, and this is where it will end. The Archer lives on these shores. I’m sure of it. I just have no idea where he is.

We drive into the sleepy town. The leaves are starting to turn; the air is fresh and crisp, and it always gives me a sense of peace. My favorite time of year was always around this time, before my December birthday, when we are blanketed with a layer of snow for months, and the town turns from summer paradise to a blustery winter calm.

As the driver turns onto Main Street, my stomach twists. By the time we pull up to our stone driveway, I’m in a cold sweat. The driver stops, opens my door, drops off the bags, and leaves me helpless and stranded. We live in a lakefront estate, nestled in a cul-de-sac with large pines all around us, giving us plenty of privacy from the nosy neighbors.

I fold my arms and stand on the driveway, waiting. Beth rushes outside in her designer athletic wear, waving at me from the front door. She looks good…and it pisses me off. She’s the perfect-looking businesswoman—a modern CEO. And I’m the spitting image of her, with her hair in a messy chic bun on top of her head. Except…I’m a disgrace. A problem she needs to deal with.

I hold my chin up and walk up to her, reminding myself my mother isn’t the enemy. Even if she feels like one. “How was the drive?” she asks, holding back.

“Fine.”