Ransom (The Unchained Omegaverse #1) - Callie Rhodes Page 0,8

terror took hold of her, a part of Gretchen's mind was spinning. She had to come up with a way to get out of this mess so she could get the truth out. But how? She had no weapons and no plan. Even if she dove out of the moving car, there was nowhere to run, no place to hide.

Unless...

Gretchen suddenly remembered the gully she'd nearly driven straight into yesterday. She hadn't seen it coming, and chances were neither would these guys.

Sure, the ditch wasn't deep, and even if she drove the car into it at full speed, these guys would probably survive the crash. All she could hope was that luck would be on her side and the impact would break all their legs.

Slowly, she began to ease the wheel toward the trees. As if to confirm her worst fears, the soldiers didn't seem to care or even notice. The destination didn't matter because nothing was waiting her except for a bullet.

Gretchen pressed down on the gas pedal, picking up speed. "I don't see anyone," she said, trying to distract Red. "I guess the Director is way the hell out here. All this dust can't be good for that suit."

No reply. The trees were coming up fast, slightly to her left. It was going to be tight—she'd have only seconds after she jerked the wheel—and she didn't like the odds of testing her reflexes against Red’s…but she didn't have a choice.

Her heart pounding, she eased her left hand off the wheel and took a deep breath.

Then she floored it.

"What the—"

"Oh God, the brakes!" Gretchen screamed, at Red stared at her in shock. "I should have listened to my mechanic!"

Red grabbed for the wheel and wrenched it just as Gretchen threw open the door. The sharp turn tossed her from the car, but—God bless her old clunker's terrible handling—the tires didn't turn far enough to avoid the gully.

As Gretchen hit the ground and rolled, she heard the sounds of crumpling metal and breaking glass.

Pain radiated up the side of her body where she'd landed, but Gretchen ignored it as she staggered to her feet. Nothing was broken. Nothing even seemed to be sprained.

Down in the gully, though, it was another story. There was an agonized scream, but no sign of movement from the overturned wreck of a car other than a single wheel slowly spinning to a stop.

Maybe—just maybe—she'd be able to make her escape after all.

But the sound of boots pounding against jammed doors and windows dashed Gretchen’s hopes. It was just her luck that she'd only injured one of the three soldiers—and given the other two a reason to be way more pissed off.

But she wasn’t going down without a fight. She turned and limped as fast as she could through the trees, back toward the tower of smoke. If she could get someone's attention on the road—if one of the other journalists saw her waving her arms—

But there wasn't time. Gretchen could hear the two men cursing as they climbed out of the gully behind her, leaving the third screaming in the wreckage. A loud crack tore through the air, then another.

Holy shit, these guys were shooting at her.

This was really happening—these men were going to kill her—all for asking a few questions.

But Gretchen for damn sure wasn't going to make it easy for them.

Adrenaline surged in her veins as she pushed herself to the limit, dodging back and forth as she ran. She prayed that a piece of jagged metal had torn off the screamer's balls. That Red's girlfriend would give him a hideous venereal disease. That the director would step into a bucket of toxic waste that had somehow been overlooked.

More gunshots, none of them finding their target...yet. But Gretchen knew her luck wouldn’t last. They were closing in on her fast.

Suddenly, the air was filled with a roar so loud, so fierce and primal that she stumbled and almost fell. Forget the gunfire or the injured soldier’s screaming—that sound was the most terrifying thing she’d ever heard, making every hair on her body stand on end.

The shooting stopped. For the briefest moment, there was only the sound of the wind—and then more screaming, right behind her.

Terror paralyzed Gretchen, gluing her feet to the spot. Someone—something—had attacked her would-be murderers.

The rustling in the brush yesterday. The fresh footprints that ended in the ditch. Whatever she'd run from yesterday was still here. And after it finished with the soldiers, it would be coming for her.

Gretchen forced