VALERIE

As I'm spinning the tires and yanking the wheel in an effort to turn the car around, Derek suddenly goes rigid, his face growing even darker than before. My pulse is furiously thumping along, a reaction to the sudden turn of events. We begin speeding back the direction we came from.

"Derek, what's going on?"

He simply shakes his head, refusing to answer or to look at me.

When we come to an intersection, he leans over again and pulls the steering wheel, turning the car right at a dangerous speed. Again, my foot comes down on the brake.

"No, don't slow down," he orders. He grabs my wrist, tearing it away from the wheel. Terrified, I turn to look at him. His eyes are grim yet determined, and still he won't meet my gaze.

He takes us around another sharp corner, left this time, in front of a car coming the opposite direction. They honk and have to swerve to avoid hitting us.

"Derek!" I scream. I can't help myself; I have no idea what is happening, and now all of a sudden, this guy that I met yesterday is taking me on a high speed chase – except I'm not even sure we're being chased. And if so, I have no idea why.

"Get ready to stop," is all he says. I shift my foot off the gas, the speed of the car slowly from insanely high to a little high. He turns us into a driveway that is green with all the shrubs and weeds growing over it and drives to the end. I apply a bit of brake, and he doesn't object. The driveway leads to a parking lot for an abandoned factory of some sort, and he takes us behind the building where the car is out of sight from the road. Bringing us to a stop, I throw the car in park and turn to him.

But he doesn't appear to be willing to talk. He is unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car, so I do the same. He continues to ignore me, jogging to the edge of the parking lot, where the trees are thick. Getting frustrated at the lack of explanation, I follow him into the woods.

"Derek," I say, wondering when he will tell me what the heck is going on. He walks on, leaving me staring at the back of his head, his leather jacket, and his jeans. "Derek!"

Finally, when we are deep enough in the woods that the parking lot, factory, and my car are hidden from view, he stops. When he turns to face me, his eyes are tight and guarded, his mouth pulled down in a grimace.

"You're good," he admits, but it doesn't sound like a compliment. It sounds harsh, cruel. "You almost had me. I can't believe I almost let my guard down."

What is he saying? I can't piece together the meaning behind his words. "What are you talking about?"

"Even now, you're going to pretend not to know? Even after you led me into that trap?" His tone is angry, the pitch rising in volume with each word.

I am so lost. What does he think I did? Who does he think I am? "Pretend not know what? What trap?" My own voice is sounding more frantic, which probably makes me sound suspicious to him. I take a few steps near him, thinking that if he could just see how confused I really am, he would start making sense.

"Stop it, Valerie!" he shouts. He reaches out and grabs my shoulders, his grip hard to the point of being painful. "I know what you are." He takes a breath and lowers his tone, "I only wonder why you waited so long to play your hand. There were many opportunities, but you chose not to exploit them. Couldn't do it yourself, was that it? You'd rather someone else do your dirty work?"

My sanity seemed to be crumbling. What is happening? Why can't he see that I'm not the bad guy? I feel panic welling up within me, like a balloon overfilling, threatening to blow at any second. The painful iron clamps on my shoulders aren't helping. Heat rises in my cheeks, my eyes grow watery, my throat tightens. Oh, no. What a bad time to start crying.

"Please, Derek. I have no idea what you're saying. I'm not whoever you think I am. What happened back there? Who were those people?" I want him to believe me so badly. How could we have gone from what had happened in the car earlier, to this?

"Hunters, Valerie. They were hunters, just like you. How else would they have known I'd be there, at exactly the right time?"

My vision swirls from the tears, and when I blink, they spill over. But suddenly I feel infused with anger. When had I given Derek a reason not to trust me? I lift a hand to rub away the tears, willing the ones still in my eyes to go away. I brought him, a complete stranger, into my home, for crying out loud. And now I'm the untrustworthy one?

"You're being paranoid. If I was in any way whatever you say I am, why didn't I just call in my friends right when I found you? Why didn't I just leave you to die?" I reply heatedly. He is looking down at me, and I meet his gray green eyes, refusing to back down. I see the doubt cross his features. "But I didn't do that because I'm actually a good person."

Whatever progress I had made on him is lost when I say the last sentence, for his face grows stormy again – even more than before. The fury drains from me as I catch a glimpse of a tortured look on his face before he hides it. Like my declaration that I'm a good person hurt him, or reminded him of someone who hurt him in the same way…

Then I'm being shoved up against the nearest tree, with Derek standing mere inches away. His dark eyebrows are nearly touching, so heavy is his scowl. His hands are still on my shoulders, pinning me against the tree.

I must look surprised, probably shocked. My mouth drops open and my eyes are wide, fixed on his face. I notice that his eyes drop to my lips for an instant before he jerks them back. It brings a different kind of heat to my cheeks.

"So you claim. I've learned the hard way not to trust what people say," he says. His words have grown soft, quiet as though he's just barely breathing them. There's a shift in the air, the tension that was rage is now something else, something that sends shivers through me.

"You already trusted me," I murmur back.

"A bad decision. It won't happen again."

"What did I do to make you doubt me?"

"The hunters-"

"They could have been there by coincidence," I stop to breathe in. He smells so good. "Think of all the things I did to help you."

"Right." It's whispered, barely passing as sarcasm. He is leaning forward, crossing the small distance between us. Blood rushes through me, leaving tingling trails in its wake. Oh my gosh, he's about to kiss me. His breath warms my face, his lips so close, but not quite there. "Dammit, Valerie," he mutters, as if it's my fault he's moved in to kiss me, as if I have somehow forced him into it. His voice is husky. A heat wave rushes straight through my body, building a yearning within me. "I can't trust you."

"Yes, you can." I reach up to stroke his face and maybe to wrap my fingers in his hair and pull his lips to mine. My hand hovers an inch away when he pushes back from me, releasing me and shifting out of my reach. He stares at me, his expression guarded and suspicious.

"No. No, I can't. I need to get away from you."

We both hear the noise at the same time, turning towards it. The sound is of branches breaking, fabric pushing past bushes, and leaves crunching underfoot. Someone is coming.

"See?" he hisses at me, furious again, "You kept me busy long enough for someone to get here. You don't like to get your own hands dirty."

"Derek, no-" I begin, but then a man steps out from the trees. He's muscular, not as built as Derek, but big. He has a shaved head, dressed in black jeans and a long black coat. There's a sneer on his ruddy face, and he's holding a gun. Pointing at Derek.

Before I have time to react, Derek leaps at the guy – a huge, almost inhuman leap – that brings him close enough to reach the guy. The gun fires. I scream. The shot is loud, much louder than I expected, leaving my ears ringing. Then I see Derek reeling back, clutching his side, and know he's been hit. I scream Derek's name this time. Derek staggers on his feet, his hand coming away bloody. The man fires again, but this time Derek dives to the side. Derek is slow to get up to his hands and knees, while the man grins and aims the gun.

Terrified for Derek's life, I run and jump on the man's back, trying to get him to drop the gun and shouting for him to stop. He gets a grip on one of my arms and wrenches me off, throwing me to the ground. My back lands sideways on a rock, and the pain that rips through me brings a cry to my lips.

Derek is back on his feet, wrestling with the man for the gun. Freeing a hand, Derek punches the man, then jabs him in the gut with his elbow. As the man is distracted, Derek slams the gun from his hands using his forearm. The two exchange blows, but Derek clearly has the upper hand. With a final vicious punch to the face, the man slumps to the ground, unconscious.

I struggle to get to my feet, my back jolting me with every move. As I limp towards him, Derek holds up a hand.

"Don't… come near me. I know… you brought them here," he says.

"No, I didn't! I tried to stop him, didn't you see that?" My tone is practically hysterical.

He shakes his head. He looks at me, and his eyes appear… sad. Then he turns away from me and runs.

"Derek!" I try to run after him, but he's already disappeared, faster than I would have thought was possible.

"DEREK!"

He's gone.


Thanks for all the comments, they are so appreciated!

Also, I wrote this entire part in one day, hopefully there aren't too many errors!