Hannah had been waiting for a mistake.
Jack made one.
It wasn't large.
It wasn't careless.
But it was enough.
He had untied one wrist so she could drink water without spilling it down herself. He stood too close. Too confident.
"You'll behave," he had said quietly.
She nodded.
She waited.
And when his hand brushed her shoulder to retie the restraint —
She lunged.
Her teeth sank into his forearm hard enough to taste blood.
Jack shouted — not in pain, but in shock.
Hannah didn't hesitate.
She drove her heel down onto his foot and twisted violently, breaking his balance just long enough to scramble free.
Emily gasped from across the room.
"Hannah—!"
But Hannah was already moving.
The small folding knife Jack had used earlier sat on the edge of the table. She grabbed it without thinking, heart hammering so loudly she could barely hear anything else.
Jack recovered quickly.
Too quickly.
He came toward her.
"Don't," he warned.
She thrust the blade forward in pure panic.
It caught him along the side — shallow but sharp.
His breath left him in a hard exhale.
Red bloomed across his shirt.
Hannah didn't stay to see how bad it was.
She ran.
The cabin door slammed open against the outside wall.
Cold air hit her lungs as she tore into the trees barefoot, branches slashing at her arms, ground uneven beneath her feet.
"HELP!" she screamed.
Her voice cracked.
"PLEASE HELP!"
She didn't know how far she'd make it. Didn't know if anyone would hear.
But she kept running.
Behind her, she heard him burst through the doorway.
She didn't look back.
The woods seemed endless.
Every shadow felt like it was closing in.
She tripped once — caught herself — kept moving.
The dirt path appeared through the trees ahead.
A road.
A truck's headlights flickered in the distance.
She screamed again, voice shredding her throat.
The truck slowed.
The driver leaned forward, trying to understand what he was seeing.
And that hesitation cost her.
Jack hit her from behind like a linebacker.
They slammed into the dirt hard.
Air exploded from her lungs.
She fought wildly — clawing, kicking, twisting — fueled by terror.
"You don't get to leave!" he shouted, rage overtaking the careful control he usually carried.
She tried to scream again.
His hand clamped over her mouth.
She bit down again.
He struck her across the face.
Not controlled.
Not measured.
Angry.
The truck driver stepped halfway out of his vehicle, unsure.
"Hey!" the man yelled.
Jack looked up sharply.
That moment of distraction gave Hannah one more attempt to scream —
But Jack drove her head into the ground with brutal force.
Everything went black.
The truck driver swore under his breath, heart pounding.
He didn't approach.
Fear took over instinct.
He grabbed his phone.
"I think I just saw a man attack a girl out near County Road 18," he told dispatch, voice shaking.
"I heard screaming."
Jack heard the engine rev.
He wasted no more time.
He hoisted Hannah over his shoulder, ignoring the throbbing pain in his side, and disappeared back into the trees.
Inside the cabin, Emily was sobbing uncontrollably when the door burst open again.
Jack's shirt was stained dark.
His breathing is uneven.
Hannah hung limp over his shoulder.
"You ruined it," he muttered under his breath.
He dropped her onto the floor carefully, checking her pulse.
Still alive.
Barely conscious.
He moved fast now.
Faster than before.
He retied her wrists tighter this time.
Reinforced the rope.
Bound her ankles separately.
Emily backed into the wall.
"Please," she cried. "Please let me go."
Jack ignored her.
In the distance — faint but undeniable — sirens began to rise.
He froze.
Listened.
Closer than he liked.
The scream had carried.
The driver had called.
He looked toward the trees beyond the window.
He calculated distances quickly.
The cabin wasn't visible from the main road.
The dirt path wound through dense cover before reaching the clearing.
Unless someone followed the exact route—
They wouldn't see it.
Still—
He moved quickly.
He wiped blood from the doorway.
Dragged leaves over disturbed ground near the entrance.
Kicked dirt over partial footprints.
The sirens grew louder.
Then split — patrol units spreading out.
Hannah stirred faintly.
Jack crouched beside her.
"You don't get to decide when this ends," he said quietly.
He stood and turned off the cabin lights.
Sheriff's deputies reached the reported location within minutes.
Flashlights cut across the road.
They found disturbed dirt.
Scuff marks.
Drops of blood.
"Female voice screaming," the truck driver insisted. "He tackled her right there."
"Did you see where they went?"
"Into the trees."
Units fanned outward immediately.
Search dogs were brought in within the hour.
The dogs picked up a scent.
Followed it through the brush.
Down a shallow incline.
Then lost it near a rocky patch where the scent thinned.
"He's familiar with terrain," one deputy muttered.
They searched for hours.
Grid by grid.
But the woods were thick.
And the dirt path leading to the cabin wasn't visible from where the struggle occurred.
The clearing sat just far enough off the main cut to remain hidden.
By midnight, the search radius expanded.
No structure located.
No victims recovered.
Just blood samples collected.
Foot impressions photographed.
And the growing realization that the suspect was injured.
Inside the darkened cabin, Jack pressed fresh gauze against his side wound.
It wasn't deep.
But it stung.
And it angered him.
Across the room, Emily cried quietly.
Hannah remained unconscious, breathing shallow but steady.
The sirens eventually faded.
Silence returned.
Jack sat heavily in the chair near the door.
"They heard you," he said softly toward Hannah's still form.
"You think that saves you?"
His voice was no longer calm.
It carried an edge.
Outside, patrol lights blinked faintly in the far distance through the trees.
Close enough to feel.
Not close enough to see.
The cabin remained undiscovered.
But the circle was tightening.
And this time—
Jack had bled.