Somewhere Far by Molly Black

Author:Molly Black [Black, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Molly Black
Published: 2023-07-24T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Gabriel Wolfe's hands clawed at the damp earth, tearing through layers of decaying leaves and soil. His eyes blazed with feverish intensity, fueled by an insatiable hunger for the hunt. The vibrations of his fingertips throbbed against the sharp stones beneath the ground, but he paid them no heed. The pain was a mere trifle in the face of his obsession.

"Almost there," he muttered to himself, sweat beading on his brow as he dug deeper into the forest floor.

As he worked, the memories of the prison van attack slithered their way back into his mind. He could almost feel the life draining from the guards' bodies as he choked them to death. The satisfaction of snuffing out their existence had been so intense that it almost rivaled his love for the hunt. Wolfe paused, shaking his head to remove the distracting thoughts of the past.

"Focus," he whispered fiercely. "Cross will get what's coming to him."

He'd wanted to kill Cross back then, but he'd convinced himself that it would be better to hunt Cross down like the dog he was. Cross was not a woodsman, not a survivalist, and he would stand no chance in this wilderness.

Wolfe's fingers trembled with anticipation as he continued to dig, the hole growing larger with each passing moment. Soon, he thought. Soon his trap would be set, and Cross would stumble right into it.

"Patience," he reminded himself, taking a deep breath of the cool, damp air. "It's all about patience."

In the distance, the cries of night creatures echoed through the trees, their voices mingling with the rustling leaves above. The symphony of the wilderness enveloped Wolfe, providing a haunting soundtrack to the scene unfolding before him.

It was soothing, that music, like a mother's lullaby sung to a child in a crib. He felt alive out here, a sharp contrast to the experience of prison, with its dull routines and stifling monotony, its oppressive walls and smothering darkness.

He remembered how caged he had felt back then, the anger that surged through him like a wildfire. How he'd wanted to rage against his captors but had been unable to do anything besides suffer in frustrated silence. That frustration kept gnawing away at him, chipping away at his patience until nothing remained but a burning fury.

But here in the wilderness, none of that mattered anymore. Here, what mattered was the hunt.

And Wolfe was nothing if not a hunter.

With the pit now a few feet deep, Wolfe straightened up and surveyed his handiwork. Satisfaction crept into his eyes as he envisioned Cross falling prey to his trap. His work was nearly complete.

He turned his attention to a cluster of saplings growing nearby. Breaking off several young branches, he chewed on the ends, honing them to deadly points. Each bite sent shivers of excitement coursing through his veins. This was where he belonged, in the wilderness, shaping nature to suit his own murderous desires.

"Nature's tools," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the whispers of the forest. Memories of

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