God of Wrath (Legacy of Gods #3) by Rina Kent

I’m not wearing a mask as I said I’d be. Does this mean he knows who I am and he still wants to do this?

A feeling of complete thrill ripples through me at the thought.

His hold loosens from around my neck and then his gravelly, too-rough voice orders, “Run.”

I stumble, and the place where he touched me tingles and burns. I want to look at him, and I can feel him behind me as tall as a god and just as lethal.

One twist of my head and I would see him.

But I don’t try.

Instead, I shift and then do as he said.

I run.





5





CECILY





If anyone were to watch this scene from the outside looking in, they’d think it was the epitome of craziness.

A foreign entity has grabbed hold of my consciousness ever since I was ambushed in the middle of the hauntingly eerie forest.

I haven’t stopped running.

Adrenaline pumps in my veins with nauseating inflation until I nearly throw up with it.

If this is insane, the one chasing me is at the peak of the madness scale.

He didn’t tell me to run to give me an opening, no. He did it because he probably gets off on seeing me flounder.

Gasping for air.

Getting lost on unknown grounds.

Are his muscles as stiff as mine? Is blood pumping in his veins with overwhelming power? Is his pulse skyrocketing with each passing second, refusing to be contained or calmed?

If I were to reach into my chest, the only thing I’d be able to touch is the remains of my exploding heart and the decimation of my withering morals.

However, shame is the last emotion on my mind as I keep running and running. Fallen branches and the bushes scratch against my legs and hands, but I shove them out of the way.

I trip on a stray rock, groaning in pain, but I barely pause before picking up my pace again.

My lungs burn and my muscles scream with exertion.

It’s the fastest I’ve run in my whole life.

And yet, his footsteps remain steady behind me. I hear them now and again, coming from different directions, flashing in and out of the night like a ghost’s.

For a moment, I think my state of hyperawareness is making up things. Otherwise, how could footsteps be heard one second and disappear the next?

It’s almost as if it’s being done…on purpose.

I carry on with my escape, even if the logical part of me knows that if I keep moving at this pace, I’ll eventually collapse and be easy prey.

If I want to preserve my energy, I have to hide—

A loud thud of footsteps rushes up from behind me and I screech to a halt, then whirl around.

My sporadic breathing fills the air, but the only thing in sight is trees.

Big, tall trees with their giant trunks and branches that resemble hungry predators' fangs.

I don’t stop to ponder the sound as I continue to sprint in the darkness.

In the forest.

In the middle of the night.

Only the moon offers any sort of light, and it’s shadowed by the thick clouds, camouflaged, absolutely distorted.

It’s also stained with the sound of my erratic breathing and the ghost-like steps of the one pursuing me.

Landon.

Though I probably shouldn’t call him that in this situation. He’s supposed to be a stranger right now.

A creature of the night.

A merciless monster.

A devil who’s come to collect my life.

The distinctive sound of feet slapping against the ground fills my ears. It’s the sound I’m making. A sound so deranged and haunted that I hear every crunch against the dirt, every pebble caught beneath my shoes.

It collides with my shattered inhales and nearly chokes my swelling lungs.

But that sound is nothing compared to the steps that appear and disappear, sometimes from behind me, other times from my left, right, and even in front of me.

It injects me with an abundance of adrenaline until I’m surviving on it. I have no doubt that if my level drops, I’ll turn into a shaky mess and fall to the ground.

The threat continues looming over me, getting closer and closer, playing a fucked-up game of hide-and-seek with my mind.

There’s no more powerful tool than mind games. Physical exertion pales in comparison to mental stimuli and that’s why manipulating, gaslighting, and abusing the mind have become the ultimate weapons in modern society.

It feels as if I’m observing a lesson from my psychology classes. Only, theory and practice are worlds apart.

I know that sealing my mind off would protect me, but actually accomplishing that under the current circumstances is next to impossible.

When I study my surroundings again, I realize I’m in a part of the forest I didn’t go to yesterday.

The trees appear taller, sharper, as if they have every intention of devouring me alive. The darkness hovers, lingers, and swallows my whole being.

The worst part? This is so far from the main house that there don’t seem to be any cameras around here.

A hushed sound comes from the right and I whirl in that direction, high alertness pulsing in my veins.

But the moment my face turns to the side, something grabs me from behind. By my hair.

The silver strands nearly rip from the roots as he shoves me toward the ground.

I don’t go down peacefully.

I have no idea what’s come over me, but the moment he clutches me, an overpowering aggressiveness floods me.