The Ending Series: The Complete Series

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  Hearing a branch snap behind me, I spun around. Taylor, Jones’s lackey, stood only a few feet away, watching me. His breath was visible with every exhale, and in the twilight his smile was demonic. Shit.

  “This is gonna be so much fun,” he said, chuckling devilishly. His eyes lingered on my exposed neck and heaving chest, and his hands twitched at his sides. He licked his quivering lips.

  As I registered what Taylor wanted, dread washed over me, making me jittery and queasy. “What the fuck’s wrong with you people!” I screamed, and my throat seared in pain. I turned away to run, and he sprang at me. Grabbing my arm, he yanked me toward him, and I immediately jerked back.

  “Don’t touch me, you son of a bitch!” I slapped at his hands. Unrequested, I could feel the excitement coursing through him. Once again, my unwanted ability to feel people’s emotions was making it difficult to focus.

  Taylor’s hold tightened as he laughed and shook his head. “It’s funny that you think there’s something wrong with us.”

  He wrapped his arms around me, holding me against his chest. His breath scorched the back of my neck as he jerked me to the ground. I struggled against him, but it didn’t do any good. My forehead slammed against the hard earth, and my shoulder screamed in pain upon impact. As I felt his tongue sample the delicate skin on my neck, I broke out in a cold sweat. His mouth was slimy and hot, and my body tensed at the thought of what he might do next.

  “Get off me, you psycho!” I shrieked. “What do you people want from me?” But I already knew the answer—like with Jones, I could see Taylor’s plan as it played out in his mind. He was going to beat me until I couldn’t move, undress me one article of clothing at a time, and then he was going to rape me—and probably kill me.

  Refusing to accept such a fate, I fought back. Taylor rolled me onto my back, and I jerked my knee up, aiming for his groin, but his body was too close. I attempted to bite him, but his sweaty palm slapped me so hard my jaw popped. I was momentarily stunned.

  “Oh come on. I just wanna play with a pretty girl.” He wrestled with me, trying to control me; his spittle sprayed the side of my face. In that moment, I knew what cattle felt like in the rodeo—being roped into submission, humiliated and helpless. But I wasn’t helpless. He’d have to beat me unconscious before I let him violate me.

  Distracted by the sight of my exposed stomach, Taylor loosened his hold on my right arm. I tore it away from him, gouging the side of his face with my nails.

  He froze in surprise and pain before slapping my face again. “You stupid bitch!” Anger had replaced his taunting playfulness, and he punched me in the gut. I gasped for air, feeling like my insides had exploded.

  “You’re gonna get it now,” he promised.

  Terrified, I started screaming and struggling with every ounce of energy I could muster.

  Surprised by my sudden display of might, Taylor studied me with dangerous amusement. “You’re a feisty—” He paused, his eyes darting around the darkening woods. “You hear something?”

  All I could hear was my muffled cries as I struggled to push him away. “Go to hell!” I screamed and kneed him in the groin, causing him to choke in pain. I elbowed him in the face before scrambling to my feet. As I took my first step to run away, his hand wrapped around my ankle.

  “No!” I sobbed as my other ankle twisted and I collapsed to the cold ground again.

  That was when I heard it—a dog’s snarl and a man’s infuriated voice. “Let go of her, Taylor.”

  My vision was too blurred with tears to see the newcomers, but I continued to struggle. Surprise had loosened Taylor’s hold, and I was finally able to scurry away, putting several yards between us. I crouched against the trunk of a tree, trying to salvage what little remained of my shredded composure.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Vaughn? I thought you were dead.” Taylor shook his head as he stood, momentarily forgetting about me. The stranger nodded to the Husky at his side, and it trotted over to me. I shrank away, unsure what it would do, but the dog only nuzzled my face and hands.

  I attempted to wipe the moisture from my eyes so I could see more clearly. The sweat on my hands was like glue, picking up loose leaves and dirt from the cold ground, and the debris scraped my stinging skin; the tender spots on my cheeks were throbbing.

  The man—Vaughn—stood in the distance, and although I couldn’t see the expression on his face, I could tell he was a solid force to be reckoned with. I detested the thought of anyone seeing me in such a state, but I was immensely grateful he’d shown up. He just saved my life.

  “You’re a piece of shit, Taylor,” Vaughn said in an even, scathing tone. He raised his left arm, aiming a pistol at my attacker.

  Taylor scoffed, but he looked nervous. With wide eyes and a wavering voice, he spoke. “What are you gonna do with that gun, Jake?” Jake. Jake Vaughn. Suddenly, Taylor seemed more sure of himself. “I don’t think you have it in ya to kill someone.” He took a step forward.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Jake said as he glanced in my direction. There was recognition in his eyes I didn’t understand.

  “I should’ve known we couldn’t get rid of you that easily,” Taylor spat. “You’ve been causing problems since you got here.” In the blink of an eye, he pulled out his own handgun and trained it on Jake. I screamed in warning.

  Before Taylor could pull the trigger, Jake put a bullet in the left side of my tormentor’s chest. Taylor fell to the ground, and blood seeped from the bullet hole. I hoped he’d been hit in the heart.

  Jake didn’t move, studying the dying man crumpled in front of me like he was waiting for him to get up. The dog at my side barked just as I heard new footsteps coming up behind me.

  “Well, well. I thought you were dead.” Jones’s voice was eerily calm as he approached his fallen comrade.

  “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” Jake said dryly. His eyes veered over to me, assessing my wounds from a distance in the dim light.

  My body shook violently as I sat on the ground, clinging to the Husky. Jones’s presence erased any relief Taylor’s death had brought me.

  “What did you do to my man?” The Captain asked as he bent down and felt for Taylor’s pulse. He stood up immediately. “You son of a bitch.” His voice was eerily calm. “You killed him. Did you kill Bennington too? It’s like you’re trying to piss me off.”

  “That’s what I tend to do when people are trying to kill me,” Jake said dryly.

  Advancing on Jake, Jones drew out his sidearm. In the seconds of chaos that followed, gunshots cracked as they briefly exchanged fire. I covered my ears and was about to run away when I looked back at Jake.

  “Shit,” he hissed, crouching on the ground and holding his arm against his abdomen. His face was twisted with pain, his breathing was ragged, and his sleeve was saturated with blood—Jones had shot him in the shoulder.

  But Jones was down too. “Fuck!” he shouted, clutching his kneecap. Before Jones could lift his gun to fire at Jake again, the dog lunged. It tore viciously at Jones’s arm, then clamped its sharp teeth onto his injured knee. The gun fell from Jones’s hand, and I shoved it out of his reach.

  “Aaah!” Jones cried out in pain. The Captain’s torturous screams harmonized with the dog’s angry snarls, composing a gruesome ballad that reverberated through the woods. Leaning against a tree, I covered my ears with my shaking hands. Please stop, I begged.

  As if by request, the world seemed to slow to a crawling speed.

  “Cooper!” Jake yelled, calling the dog off his assault on Jones. As the Husky trotted over to his approaching owner, Jones remained on the ground, writhing in pain. His clothes were ripped and bloodied from the dog’s teeth, but that didn’t stop him from rolling over and reaching for Taylor’s gun.

  Before I could scream another warning, a bullet hit Jones between the eyes, and he collapsed. I easily swallowed the bile rising in my throat as I realized my tormentors were dead. Jake had ki
lled them.

  I looked up to find Jake leaning his good shoulder against a tree. As he repositioned his wounded arm, he flinched, his face pinching with pain. I hobbled over to him, my ankle throbbing with each step. When I reached him, I pulled off my long-sleeve shirt, not caring that I was left wearing only a tank top, and pressed the wadded up fabric against his bleeding shoulder.

  “Oh my God,” I said, visually searching his body for more wounds. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing,” he said coldly and pushed me and my blood-soaked shirt away. Before we broke contact, I mentally glimpsed a dark-haired woman, bloody in his arms.

  Date: December 22, 6:25 PM

  From: Zoe Cartwright

  To: Danielle O’Connor

  Subject: I’ve had better days...

  D,

  Have I told you recently that I hate Cece? Well, I do. Who the hell does she think she is? She thinks she can get away with all this bullshit, does she? Well, I think this is a perfect excuse for Jason to get rid of her. Seriously, he has no reason to hold back now. She’s obviously a nutcase.

  Speaking of crazy bastards…you know how I mentioned Jones wanted something last night? Well, my encounter with him was less than ideal. Our conversation started with an interrogation and ended with me running away. Hindsight is a bitch. I really wish I would’ve handled the whole thing differently. I won’t bother you with the morbid details.

  What matters is that they’re dead. No, it wasn’t me who killed them. A man named Jake Vaughn showed up and helped me. I don’t know anything about him other than everyone thought he was dead, and he saved my life. I haven’t seen him since. Regardless, I’m really happy Jones and Taylor are dead and NEVER coming back. You can’t imagine how horrible they were.

  Although those two assholes were crazy, there are some women here who seem okay. I’ve only briefly met them, but they are nice enough...Clara, Stacey, Tanya, and Summer. I’m pretty sure Summer’s unwell, as in sick and mentally shattered—I can feel it when she’s around me.

  Anyway, now that the psychopaths have been disposed of, everyone is settling into their new rooms in the barracks. I’m currently “rehabilitating” in my new “sleeping quarters” (we’re being very official). I have my own room, bed, and even a pleasant view of absolutely nothing. Well, that’s a lie, there’s a dead dogwood tree outside my window, but that’s about it. This base is pretty desolate as far as any scenery goes. But I’m anxious and moody, so now I’m just finding things to complain about. Not a surprise. In all honesty, I feel cooped up and about ready to scream. I haven’t been out of my room at all today—Harper’s forcing me to rest for a day.

  I’m not sure how long we’ll stay here, but I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.

  Zoe

  21

  DANI

  Date: December 22, 11:30 PM

  From: Danielle O’Connor

  To: Zoe Cartwright

  Subject: I’m SO Sorry

  Zo,

  I wish I had the magical power to teleport to you. That would fix so many of the problems we’re both having right now. We could look out for each other, and I really just need to get away from all of the crap going on over here. You see, the whole Cece thing has escalated. A lot. I know you’ll be pissed at what I’m about to do. I’m so sorry, Zo.

  Earlier this evening, I found a note from the evil bitch. She warned me that I needed to leave the group. She said she (and her harem of idiots) will kill Jason and Chris if I don’t leave tonight. I just lost Cam, and though I know it’s not the same thing, I can’t handle losing Jason too. Or Chris. Or anybody else. Plus there’s the chance that all of this drama will calm down if I’m gone, and my friends will still be able to benefit from the “safety in numbers” deal. So, I have to leave.

  When you get this, can you send an email to Jason explaining why I left? As soon as I have a chance, I’ll try to contact you. If I can’t, I’ll see you in Colorado. Nothing will keep me from finding you. I love you, Zo.

  Dani

  “I’m done, Chris. Do you want to use my comp?” I asked after I’d signed out of the incriminating email account.

  From her reclined position on the bed, Chris nodded and held her hands out to accept the silver laptop. I quickly handed it over.

  Purposely fiddling with my fingers, I said, “I’m going to Jason’s room for a bit. There’s some stuff I want to talk to him about.” I put on a good show, making sure to sound a little breathy and anxious.

  “Mmhmm,” Chris mumbled with a small smile, her eyes already glued to the glowing screen. “Have a nice time.”

  I rushed out of the room, Jack at my heels, confident that my performance had worked. As far as Chris was concerned, I should be spending the entire night in Jason’s arms. She wouldn’t be concerned when I didn’t return.

  My next stop really was Jason’s room but not for either my stated or implied reasons. I tapped quietly on his door, two rooms down from mine. Make it quick, or this won’t work.

  The door opened partially, exposing Jason’s expressionless face. Upon seeing me, he cleared the way to the room and motioned for me to enter. He was shirtless, and seeing his muscular torso paralyzed my tongue. I shook my head, finding it difficult to form the words I’d planned to say.

  His eyebrows rose in surprise. “You won’t come in?”

  “No. I just came to say goodnight.” To say goodbye.

  “Oh, I thought…never mind.” You thought what? That I wanted to fight more? That I wanted you to finish what you almost started this morning?

  “I guess all the crying wore me out,” I explained. “But…I wanted you to know that I’m not mad at you.” I wanted to tell you I’m leaving, and that I can’t stand the idea of being away from you.

  “Oh, good,” he said, sounding genuinely relieved. His eyes softened as he looked at me, and I felt an overwhelming urge to do something completely stupid.

  Taking a step forward, I stood on tiptoes and brushed my lips against his cheek. His rough stubble felt heavenly against my sensitive skin. “Good night,” I whispered mere inches from his ear. My fingertips were pressed lightly against his bare chest. I can’t lose you. Before Jason had the chance to react, I stepped back and pulled the door shut between us.

  Like stalking cats, Jack and I ghosted down the rest of the hallway. Ky’s family home was quite large, equipped with two sets of stairs connecting the first and second floors. I headed for the narrow set at the rear of the house, conveniently leading me to the mudroom and backdoor.

  Earlier that day—shortly after finding Cece’s heinous note—I had gathered all of my essential belongings into my backpack and stowed it in the mudroom closet. With everyone focused on dinner and consuming the excess wine we’d brought from Gold Hill, it had been easy to complete the task unnoticed.

  The closet door creaked faintly when I opened it to retrieve my pack. I paused, hoping desperately that nobody had heard. Only the muffled sounds of drunken laughter permeated the door separating the small room from the rest of the house.

  I resumed my movements, covering my body with suitable outerwear before quietly hoisting the pack onto my shoulders. Without a backward glance, Jack and I slipped out the door into the unconventional safety of a moonless winter night.

  We made our way slowly up a rolling hillside behind the house, me being especially careful not to twist my ankle in a hole or trip over anything. It was a long shot, considering the tall grasses masking the ground. After about twenty minutes, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and my surroundings grew clearer. I finally felt comfortable with my decision to not use a flashlight.

  “Can you smell the horses, Jack?” I whispered to my cautious dog. I knew they had to be close; we’d passed a stable and expansive pastures on our way to Ky’s house that afternoon.

  Halting, Jack raised his glinting black eyes to mine and sniffed the air. I felt like he really was searching for the scent of horses.

&nbs
p; On a hunch, I whispered, “Where are they? Take me to the horses, Jack.”

  Jack instantly surged forward and trotted through the tall grass, slowing only when he realized I’d fallen behind. He took a path slightly more to the right than I would have, making me question my decision to use him as a guide.

  Suddenly, the faint stench of hay and manure wafted around me, and a long, gray-brown building came into view. The stable!

  “Good job, Jack!” I whispered. Trusting my dog had been the right decision after all.

  Picking up my pace, I headed for the stable. Jack bounded around me with uncontrollable excitement. By the time we reached the door, he’d stopped to pee twice; apparently the excitement had been too much.

  Once we were safely inside, I relented on my flashlight ban. There were only a few tiny windows letting in the glow from the stars, and I needed light to find the necessary equipment. Unfortunately, as I began exploring the building’s interior, I immediately noticed that an essential element of my getaway plan was missing: horses.

  Before I could investigate further, I was interrupted by a loud bang. “Shit!” I yelped, nearly jumping out of my boots. Is someone here? Did I screw myself by using the damn flashlight? Still, I didn’t have the nerve to extinguish the little light.