Blue-eyed Headhunter
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 2: Panic
Then came a sharp, piercing cry—the Barton brother with the wounded thigh screaming in pain. One of the horses, startled by the sudden noise, reared violently. Hooves pounded the dirt like thunder, and before Mia could react, the horse’s front hoof slammed into her legs.
Pain exploded through her bones, white-hot and merciless. She let out a strangled scream, collapsing to the ground. Her breath came in ragged, shallow gasps as the coarse dirt scraped against her palms. Fire shot up her legs, stealing her ability to move. She tried to scramble, but the world tilted and wavered, cruel and unkind.
The stagecoach jolted, the driver cracking the reins. “Move! Move! Move!” The horses surged forward, leaving a cloud of dust behind. The passengers inside shouted in alarm, but their voices were swallowed by the wind. Mia’s heart pounded—not with control this time, but raw, unfiltered terror.
The Barton brothers groaned, sprawled across the sun-baked earth, blood running from shoulder, thigh, and forearm. The tallest one hissed through gritted teeth, clutching his wounded shoulder. The second moaned, pressing his crimson-streaked thigh to the dirt. The third struggled to rise, only to collapse again. Pain sharpened their focus; survival was immediate, priorities now clear.
Mia tried to drag herself backward, but the pain flared anew with every movement. Her revolver skidded across the dirt, out of reach. Her chest heaved as terror rippled through her, warm and raw. She had faced danger before—but nothing like this: isolated, wounded, and utterly exposed on the open plains.
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