I had to calm myself in an instant to avoid showing signs of distress. If my exterior and interior expressions had been in line you would have seen sweat on my brow, a grit in my jaw, trembling hands. Instead, I became a steele wall, aware of any sound. There was none within range, but the rest of his men could already have the others, surrounding the camp and leaving me to him. Or my people could be steps away, untouched and seconds away from slitting Gideon's throat.

"On your knees." He demanded, humor still hanging on his every word. My eyes moved rapidly, scanning the treeline for any movement.

They would come. Jungkook would come.

When I didn't move to follow his instruction he pushed down on my shoulder, tapping the back of my knee with the heel of his boot so that I went down by force.

Gideon was mouthy, rambling on while patting me down beneath my clothes. He discarded every weapon, hidden blades tucked into my shoe, the waistband of my pants, between my breasts.

"It's funny. I remember things like this before the world went to shit. I'd lose my keys, look for them for hours. The moment I stopped would be the one that I found them. Now, as soon as I stop looking for you, here you are." He chuckled at the irony.

I opened my mouth to scream. I should scream.

The sound was trapped in my throat, the thought that there were more of his men surrounding the area preventing me from calling out for help. I was suddenly hoping they wouldn't come. We didn't have enough weapons to take on the armory Gideon kept, not anymore.

He'd kill me. If not now, eventually. Either way, I'd die, and I had one chance to get away, to run so that he and whomever of his men lurked in the shadows would be led away from our camp.

"I was always hoping for Shelby." The sound of her name on his tongue left a foul taste in my mouth. He made a point of shoving the tip of his gun into my hair, so careless with its use that I wondered if it would discharge without intention. His other hand was out of sight, leaving me blind to his actions until I could feel his attempt to bind my wrists together.

He knelt behind me for easier access to my wrists. The rope was thick, the knotting as expert as those the others had me practice until the threads made my hands raw.

With my hands immobile he chanced lowering his gun. I scanned the woods again. There was no one.

A downward glance to my right side revealed that he held his weapon without much concern that I may overpower him. My opportunity lay in a single second.

My gaze was already downcast. I used the entirety of my force to drive my head backwards, the couple of inches that made up our height difference providing the perfect positioning to connect with his nose, the small crunch not enough to break but to stun for a momentary opening.

The assault didn't put him off balance, but he dropped his gun, the hand reaching to feel at the blood that dripped from his nostrils.

I was already on my feet. Even with my hands bound I was fast, sprinting toward the horizon.

A gunshot rang out behind me. If I'd been hit I didn't know, but there was noise. One set of footsteps, a bit slower and another, lighter and gaining on me with every step.

My shoulder snapped at the impact of a tackle from my right. Our bodies moved together, landing a couple of feet away with a thump. It knocked the wind out of me, a hit so intense that every sound of pain dissipated into a gasp.

I turned over with a groan, crying out with my next breath of air. My strength was depleting but I lifted onto my elbows, sneering at the sharp sting from the pressure on my arm.

"Can I shoot her now?" The man I was unfamiliar with, who'd taken me down, questioned. His tone was impatient and when he held his firearm to me it was steady, unnerved.

Blood had smeared onto Gideon's teeth, spread into a nefarious grin as that same chuckle that greeted me at our encounter sounded from above. I had to squint against the sunlight I'd spent the morning admiring to see them both from my place on the ground, observing the stranger's eyes as familiar.

In my fall the knots loosened just enough for me to slip my left hand through. I kept them fixed to give the appearance that I was still bound.

"Hold off for now, Demetrius." Gideon stalked closer, the thick sole of his boot against my chest jarring. His kick was enough to knock me over again and I grunted at the force of his knee against my calves. He knelt once again, whipping the leather belt he wore from its loops to secure my ankles. I craned my head for a better view of him. He winked in my direction, tugging a little tighter so that the edges bit into my skin as he finished his reply. "Let's have a little fun first."

My stomach turned at his words, the weight on my body heavier even as he stood. I needed something, for a group of the undead to overtake them, even if it meant I died in the process. Even better, for the others to know I was here, for an arrow to fly between the trees or for the glint of shining steel to slice through the air. Anything.

"Ju–" My attempt to scream his name was cut off by the wad of fabric Gideon shoved in my mouth.

Tears pooled in my eyes, a few sliding down the inner crevice to the tip of my nose. They dropped to moisten the soil, as inaudible as the rest of our vicinity.

My sounds of opposition muffled against the cloth that filled my mouth, in response to the shift of my weight. Gideon's strong, solid arms wrapped around my legs, lifting them so that they were balanced near his waist. He nodded to Demetrius, who seemed to mimic the arrogant smirk Gideon wore. And then I was being dragged, Demetrius leading the way to their camp.

It was disorienting, every ridge and divot in the land a bump that would surely bruise. I attempted to focus on my breath, able to feel it shortening into too quick puffs that escaped my nose. If I didn't find some control I'd pass out.

My hands. I'd been holding the rope so tightly to disguise myself as still restricted that the tension splintered my palms.

I let go, my arms scraping against the earth with the friction of each pull. I stretched them out, not in an attempt to get away. That would have been fruitless. Instead, I dug my fingers into the dirt, letting them scrape along the trail until my nails were broken and bleeding.

When I couldn't bear the pain of grime against my wounds any longer I reached for anything I could leave behind: the empty band that typically kept a blade secured against my arm, a few pieces of my hair that I ripped from the root, and the thing that was hardest to leave behind, the necklace. I tugged at the stone until the twine snapped, the gold gem glinting atop grass that'd been mushed against my body.

Gideon didn't have an ounce of regard for anything that was happening behind him. Just the same, my attention was set on leaving a trail for the others to track me. What lay ahead would make that impossible.

My legs thudded when Gideon released them at the bottom of a ditch. He left me there, climbing the small channel to the asphalt on the other side.

I'd turned over, quickly scrambling to my knees at the sight of Demetrius leaning against a sedan.

"Her hands are untied." He noted, keeping his eyes locked on mine. I was sure they were wide with terror, with the realization that the tracks I left wouldn't lead to me.

Gideon shrugged out of his coat and tossed it into the driver's side window. He appeared almost nonchalant, as if he knew there was no chance of me getting away.

That was the worst part. Neither of them were threatened, no matter how hard I fought against them. Even when I began to claw at the ground, pulling myself back up the ditch with the intent to crawl away, they regarded me with apathy.

"Get her hands tied back up and put her in the trunk." Gideon voiced from behind me. I was nearly to the edge of the woods again and started to scream, to plead for someone to save me even with the gag dulling the sound.

No one came. It was all too fast. I could have counted, sure that only a few minutes passed between Gideon's first sadistic laugh to my feeble attempts to evade them. I could have counted the seconds it took for Demetrius to secure my wrists again. He tossed me over his shoulder effortlessly and into the small trunk.

I started counting, two seconds for the lift to close me inside and then nothing. Counting was pointless, in the dark and with no direction there was no way to determine the miles, turns or time.