Tears sprang to my eyes as he pushed my shoulder to spin me around, then shoved me forward.

I stumbled but didn’t fall.

The blade of the shovel bit into my shoulder blades, marching me ahead.

I had no choice.

I let him push me to my death.

Think!

Don’t let him do this!

I sniffed back tears and shoved away panic, embracing the clearheadedness of certainty. This time, I didn’t doubt that he would kill me. Passion didn’t direct this. Rage didn’t conduct his actions.

This was him, drowning beneath madness, and I wouldn’t be able to negotiate or plead. Sex wouldn’t change his mind. Conversation would most likely make him snap.

It’s over, Gem.

I balled my hands.

It’s not over.

Not yet.

My mind whirled with options.

Self-defense classes shook off cobwebs and shot back into memory. I’d been good. I’d been strong. If I could tackle him and take him by surprise, I might earn enough time to run.

Looking past the swaying fields of grass, beyond the trees ringing the clearing of the house, I focused on the cliff face. The same cliff I’d stupidly descended into this nightmare.

If I can get to that, I can vanish.

I doubted he could climb, and even if he could, he wouldn’t have the stamina that I’d built up over the years, nor the swiftness that came from training a body to have muscles where others only had weaknesses.

My index fingers could hold my entire body weight. My foot could anchor me on a precipice with just my toes. If it took every ounce of effort and every trick I could muster, I would commit because this was my life.

And I’m not willing to give it up.

The house grew smaller behind us. The river became louder the closer we went. Late afternoon sunshine beat down upon us, its heat welcome but also mocking. Sweat beaded on my spine and slicked between my breasts, my pulse whizzing with adrenaline.

This was my last chance. My boots were still in the bathroom from where he’d carried me after my shower. The borrowed sweater and slacks I wore were more suited for a decadent dinner instead of rock climbing away from a monster.

I had no supplies, no PLB, nothing but my eagerness to return home and get as far away from this valley as possible.

And that’s enough.

It has to be.

Shadows fell over us as he pushed me into a thicket of trees. Deeper and deeper, the sounds of wildlife slowly faded the farther from sunlight we went.

Only once we reached a patch of earth where nothing grew—no trees, no flowers, not even a dandelion—did he drop the shovel from my shoulder blades and growl, “Stop.”

I stopped.

I sucked in a breath.

I turned to face him.

Bracing myself, I let viciousness overcome me. I wasn’t naturally a fighter. I didn’t like arguments and preferred to swallow my opinions instead of getting into a debate. However, this time, I would break every bone in his body if it meant he’d stop threatening me.

Tenacity made me try to appeal to him one last time. “Listen to me. Know me. I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again. My name is Gemma Ashford. I have a baby brother who I adore, and we lost our father a few years ago. My mother doesn’t understand me, and I struggle to find genuine friends. I live alone in a house I love, but I sometimes get so lonely I would rather get lost in a national park than sit by myself for another night. That’s how I found you. I followed a ribboned track that looked aged and afraid and just as lonely as me.”

“Quiet.” He pinched the bridge of his nose before tossing me the shovel and pointing at the ground. “Dig.”

I caught it, wrapping shaking fingers around the wooden handle. “I get loneliness, you know. I know what it’s like to create habits that don’t work around others. I know how hard it is to let someone in because you think, once you do, that the loneliness will be a thousand times worse when they’re gone.”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about me!”

“You’re right.” I nodded, clinging to the shovel. “I don’t. But I could...if you told me. If you stopped being such a bastard and saw that, despite how you’ve treated me, regardless of your abuse, I’m still open to understanding.”

He marched into me, his hand swooping toward my throat.

I didn’t let him get purchase. Not a third time. He would not be strangling me today. Dancing backward, I held up the shovel as a weapon. “Give me your name.”

“I don’t have a name.” He crouched into a predator stance. A hunter ready to pounce. “I suggest you dig. Now.”

I shoved back hair that’d swung forward and stuck to my cheek. “You expect me to dig my own grave?”

“I expect you to do what you’re told.”

“And if I don’t?”

His lips spread into a thin grimace. “Then I guess I’ll be the one digging.”

I looked down at my feet. At the barren land and the aura of death. “Is that what this place is? A tomb for whoever used to live in that house with you?”

He stiffened. “You think me capable of killing everyone I come into contact with?”

“Absolutely.”

He cocked his head. “If you’re so sure of what I am, then why are you still trying to talk to me? Why are you still being nice?” He raked both hands through his hair, swiping the long wildness behind his ears. “You say you’re lonely. You try to use your own experiences to convince me to open up to you. But what you’re not following is, I have nothing to confess. I have nothing I want to share with you—mentally or physically. I like being alone. I like silence because silence is safe. And you?” He laughed icily, unable to hide the pain lying beneath. Pain that took my breath away. “You fuck all of that up. I have no silence. I have no safety. And I’m done.”

He sprung.

Instinct took over.

I parried to the side and raised the shovel.

Bowling into me, he tried to tackle me to the earth. If I hadn’t refreshed myself on self-defense moves, I would’ve fallen and been his before I hit the ground. Instead, I let muscle memory take over.

I rolled with him.

I kicked out my leg and struck his thigh, sending him collapsing onto his back. His hands reached for my throat, throwing his whole weight at me. My hands clutched the shovel. In a sharp twist, I wrapped my legs around his torso and spun upward instead of letting him pin me into the dirt.

He didn’t get my throat, but he did snatch my arms.

That connection sent shockwaves through both of us.

My legs spasmed around his waist.

Electricity struck us as if a lightning bolt had shot from the sun.

For a second, everything stopped.

Nothing else mattered.

Only shock and lust and pain.

So much fucking pain.

We were a collision.

A disturbed, confused, broken demolishment of everything that we’d been before this.

This.

Oh, God.

What is this?

Shock widened his eyes, mirroring mine. We quaked as we paused in our fight. Our bodies trembled as if we hummed at the same bone-breaking frequency. His heart pounded into mine, drilling its way into my chest, trying to understand what the hell was happening.

Black desire drenched him as his hands turned hot against my skin, digging into my biceps as the icy madness left his stare, unable to hide the complex depth he hid.