Carly made a weak attempt to swat the hand that struck her. When it didn’t make contact, she gave up and let her hand drop back to her knee. Her shoulder stung, allowing the barest distraction as she gulped down air. Hair tickled across her face. Most of it was plastered down by sweat, but drier strands had escaped her ponytail. She had long since given up trying to keep it out of the way.
Logan was so certain, so vehement in her assurance that there was a way out. Carly’s sigh was indistinguishable from the rest of her labored breaths. Tired, so tired. She leaned her head against the tree trunk. “There is no fence.” Her own certainty just as strong, but for the opposite reason. Giving up wasn’t so bad. It was almost peaceful, in a way.
Consternation clouded her features, drawing her brows down and tugging her mouth into a frown. It wasn’t fair of her to force Logan to stop and give up, too. Had Logan not gotten them moving in the first place, they would’ve been killed along with the others who remained in the pen, refusing to participate in this sick, gruesome game.
Someone was coming. That much she was aware of. But she couldn’t seem to make herself care anymore. Hours of running had gotten them nowhere. At least a bullet to the head would be quick.
The next time Logan touched her, Carly lashed out with aggression, shoving her cousin away. The effort sapped more energy. She turned her face away long enough to clear her expression, then turned back. “Just go. If you’re so sure there’s a way out, find it. Leave me here. I give up.” When Logan didn’t move, she repeated, “Go!”