I am so cold. So weak. So dead.

If not now, then soon, when this whole charade blows up in my face. I think it just did... 

I should have let Sam walk away, but I couldn't bear the thought of dying alone, even if she'd be better off, never knowing what I am and what I've done. Never enduring what I'm about to put her through.

Maybe I can minimize the damage, but I do owe her an explanation. And one will lead to another and another, and...

It is pure agony trying to get to my feet, even with Sam's help.

"Is it just your right shoulder?" she asks me.

She places my left elbow and bicep in her two-handed grip.

"Hip, too," I tell her, rising to one knee. "Same side."

On the count of three, I shift some of my weight to my bad leg so I can straighten my good one. Sam gets me upright, but I'm forced to cry out. Then I sway, feeling light-headed, about to pass out.

We wait there, my eyes closed. Leaning into her, standing on one leg, I take in a few short, panting breaths before I can even consider moving again.

"Are you going to be all right?" she inquires like I'm still a wolf about to bite.

I want to shake my head and collapse, but I manage a nod.

"Can you put that foot down?" she follows up, astoundingly calm and supportive, like she's done this before. Like she knows what she's doing. She's not scared or squeamish, or running back to her boyfriend horde, who all want to kill me.

Some worse than others, but the feeling is mutual.

"Maybe a little."

"Good," she replies. 

We hobble a few steps, her support on my good arm and around my waist, her hand just above the wound on my hip.

"Do you have your phone nearby? Can we call someone?"

I shake my head. "It's in my truck." A shiver forces itself through my whole body.

"Which is?"

"About a mile from here," I chatter through rattling teeth. "And on the other side of this hill." I bob my head at the small mountain to our right. It's keeping us out of sight, but it may as well be Mount Everest in the state I'm in.

"My phone is in the back of Ted's truck," she informs me, sighing, and with a shudder of her own. "That won't help us, either. I'm sorry, I. . ." She leans me against a tree trunk and shuffles to the other side of it. "We have to stop for a minute."

"Is it too much?" I turn my head to ask.

"Yes, and no." With her back to my gaze, she pulls at the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "You're naked."

"That's what we're focusing on here?" I retort, half joking, half annoyed.

With her eyes closed, she reaches around the tree with her zip-up sweatshirt in a bundle for me to grab. "It's hard not to. It's dark, but not that dark. And, you're shivering."

"So are you. I'm not taking your sweatshirt."

"Just. Please. So this isn't more awkward than it has to be."

"I'm going to ruin it." I take it, but I don't do anything with it right away.

"Do you really think I care at this point? Hopefully a tight knot will put some pressure on your hip." She comes back on my side of the tree as I'm adjusting the extra-small sleeves into a place where I can tie a little knot at my side.

"You're losing a lot of blood," she also notes, dragging her fingers down my right arm, and then rubbing them together. Then she makes things more awkward by pulling off her polo shirt, no more than a foot in front of me. "You can use this on your shoulder." She presses it against my wound and doesn't let go until my hand replaces hers.

She's wearing a dark, simple bra with thin straps and skimpy cups. Her leggings land low and hug everything. The shape of her is no mystery. We're not equal in our exposure, but we're now a whole lot closer to it.

Sam was right. It's dark, but it's not that dark. With my better-than-human night vision, I'm almost able to forget that fucking Ian Tierney just had his tongue halfway down her throat. Even around the dirt, and blood, and cold sweat, I can pick out the scent of his cologne on her skin.

I turn my head, close my eyes, and hold my breath until she backs up.

Why do I want to kill Ian more than anyone? Even Ted? It's not because he'd hurt her or force himself upon her, but because it looked like he wouldn't have to.

I'm lucky Ted was the bad guy. It would have been me if things played out in Ian's favor, and Sam was—gag—obliging.

"Are you ready?" She offers her arm again and is looking onward.

"Yes," I grind out, angrier than I have any right to be.

I bounce my weight off the tree with a wince and stumble into her grip.

We proceed through the woods slowly, quietly, and in spurts that I can handle, pausing or darting behind barriers at every glint of a flashlight, coming from the plateau beside us.

I have nothing more to say if she's not going to ask. Even if she does ask, I'm not in any mood to answer, not in any depth. It'll have to wait. Indefinitely. Maybe I'll find a way to avoid it entirely.

There are people still looking for her, calling her name, somewhat nearby, although most of it has tapered off, the more ground we cover, as fast as we're able. I've rarely been in more pain, but time is not a luxury we have. It's too cold tonight. It may dull some of the throbbing, but it's slowing down the healing process. The blood keeps gushing out of me. She'll be dragging me out of here if something doesn't change.

Everyone will eventually flee to their cars, and it's best if we avoid them. If the cops haven't been called yet, it's only a matter of time.

These trails have more than one access point. I followed Ian from the movie theater, speeding like a madman, trying not to lose him. At least a few other people parked their cars where he did. I'm on the side of the road, a few hundred yards further on, but it's the same general area. The quickest way back to town is to go in the direction we came and sneaking by unnoticed could be a matter of life or death.

The sound of a car speeding by is music to my ears. We're almost there. But that also means the hardest part is yet to come.

"What's with the silent treatment these days?" Sam asks me. We're at the base of the hill we've been putting off. The only direct way out of here is to go over it. "Is it something I said?"

I scoff in response. It's the best I can do. I'm not sure I have the energy or brainpower to answer her, even if I wanted to.

"It's really getting tiresome," she adds. About five wobbly steps up the hill, she lets go of my arm, panting and hunched over. "Why can't you just grow a pair and say what's on your mind already."

In the absence of her support, I can't keep myself upright. I collapse to my knees and one elbow, still holding her shirt to my other shoulder. "Fine. You want to talk, we'll talk. Ian Tierney. Why would you go anywhere with that guy? You'd be one and done, and tossed aside. I thought you knew that."

"If you'd have shown the slightest bit of interest in me, I would have said no! So, why don't you do me a favor and explain to me why you care?"

I have no response for that.

"And what about you?" she hits me again. "You're a wolf? Care to elaborate on that? Or how about you share your reason for following me tonight? This should be good..."

One of Ivy's demons must be smiling at me. I get a face full of leaves and pass out. Or die.

Either way, I consider myself lucky. I've endured enough torture for one lifetime already.