Prey [Ambassador's Pick ONC23]

05. Death

I've never seen a rifle this close before.

The only ones I've seen have been carried by park rangers whenever we've gone on a game drive or taken a guided walk. It's necessary for rangers to have them, just in case you run into dangerous animals. But they are always slung across their shoulders, more a precaution than anything else.

This one is pointed right at me.

My knees go weak, unable to continue holding up my body, and I fall to the floor, my hands flying up into the air as though I am surrendering. Tears blur my vision and my gaze darts away from the gun to my husband. Seth hasn't moved since he hit the floor and that scares me a hell of a lot more than the rifle currently pointed at my face.

"Jeremy." I hear a strangled sob from behind me. I can't see Celia, but just behind the man in front of me I can make out the faded green of Jeremy's t-shirt. It looks like he's still standing, and I can't figure out why he hasn't done anything yet.

Then, the man in front of me moves slightly to the left, revealing Jeremy properly for the first time. His hands are raised in the air, similar to mine, and behind him is another man, his rifle digging into Jeremy's back.

Jeremy's dark eyes meet mine, terror and panic fighting for the top emotion. His chapped lips open as he tries to mouth something to me.

Don't move.

So I listen, my gaze darting back to where Seth is still lying still on the floor. Every single inch of my body wants to go to him, to check if he has a pulse, to kiss his forehead, to tell him I love him. But I have a feeling that if I dared to move, I would have a bullet in my brain. I force myself to keep still while beads of sweat drip from my skin and land on the floor in front of me.

"Good girl," the man behind Jeremy says. "Now get up, and walk to your friend."

He doesn't specify, but I assume he means Celia. With wobbling legs, I manage to pull myself up, keeping my hands in the air. I'm too afraid to turn around, so I walk backwards, stepping slowly while my heart slams against my ribcage.

The man in front of me is large, towering over me with heavy shoulders and muscles running along his arms. Stubble peppers his jaw and head and it seems like he would usually be clean shaven, but he hasn't had the chance in a few days. His hold on the rifle is steady and confident, as though it's every day that he aims it with the intent to kill.

It probably is.

His eyes are dark and devoid of emotion. The smile on his face is twisted and sinister and it makes my skin crawl.

The back of my legs hit a couch and I feel along, trying to find my way around it. Finally I bump into a soft arm and Celia immediately grabs my hand, gripping so tightly that I will probably lose circulation. Jeremy joins us, wordlessly taking Celia's other hand as he eyes the two men that still aim their rifles at us.

And still, Seth doesn't move.

Cold fear washes through me as I notice that his usually blonde hair is now stained crimson. Blood continues to drip from the wound on his head and the puddle beneath him keeps getting wider. I'm desperate to see his fingers twitch, to see him shift, anything that lets me know he's alive. His face is turned away from me as he lies on his stomach and I can't even tell if he's breathing or not.

It was just a bump on his head. He'll be okay.

But I can't convince myself to believe it, especially while eyeing the two men in front of us. The second one is shorter than the man that pointed the rifle at me, with close-set eyes and a nose that's slightly too large for his face. They wear matching khaki pants and button up shirts and it's impossible to miss the knives hanging from holsters on their belts.