Blood Blossoms

Prologue

She stopped and leant her back against the tree, struggling to catch her breath. Her throat was parched and hurting from each needy gasp her lungs demanded of her. Her feet hurt–her toes were probably bleeding at this point–and her legs were threatening to give out under her weight. She bent forward and rested her palms against her knees, trying to steady her shaky legs. "It was never meant to be like this," she thought to herself. Nausea suddenly assailed her and she fought to suppress an urge to puke. Her body couldn't take much more... She let her eyes close for a fleeting moment as she focused on regulating her breathing, and her mind started to drift.

This was like gym class, wasn't it? Only, it was much more lonely and much, much more stressful. Oh, how she would kill to be able to collapse into a comfy bed right now! A warm bath would be nice... with bubbles and floating ducks. Make that floating baby Bellas! Some fresh water too, even though she thought it tasted so bland. It took all her will not to give in and just sit down right there and be miserable. Maybe bathe in her vomit a bit, would that qualify as a warm bath? But the brisk night air would cajole her, and the pretty stars twinkled just so...

No! NO! She couldn't afford to relax. Not yet! Floating baby Bellas be damned! She was on a mission! She was going to save someone! Two someones including herself! Wait, floating baby Bellas...?

Distant howls snapped her back to reality before she could pursue the embarrassing thought. Yes, the hounds were still after her. And yes, she had let her guard down. "Fuck!"

She rose and reached into her jacket, feeling the metal of the Sig Sauer her cousin's butler Andrew had insisted on giving her. "You never know," he had said. Its cold and heavy presence did not provide her comfort in the slightest. She already didn't like the idea of firearms themselves, and the prospect of using one terrified her to the core. At this rate, however, if she was going to make it to that comfy bed at all, she had a creeping suspicion she might just have to press the trigger.

She pushed herself from the tree, laying a hand on its rugged bark for support. Looking back in the direction of her pursuers, she concluded they ought still be some distance away. The hounds were fast, much faster than their handlers, perhaps, but even their howls had been far off.

There was still time. She still had time. 

She turned, her eyes boring into the darkness ahead as she steeled herself. Mustering her remaining strength, she staggered forward, then cast a quick glance at her phone. "Only two more miles to go," she said to herself. She wouldn't let that discourage her. Her legs were wobbly, and her body's muscles were wailing in pain, but she silenced their cries and picked up her pace, one step at a time. Adrenaline surged anew in her veins. Then she took off into a sprint, and never looked back. The sound of a distant whistle accompanied her dash.

Yes, she might just have to kill tonight.