Eden's Fire. Samantha Holt

largest of them laughed, revealing crooked teeth in his dirt encrusted face. His hair may have been blond but the grime made it difficult to tell. The other two followed suit as they chuckled and displayed equally disgusting grins.

      “Looks like someone wants to play, Rob.” The shortest one snorted.

      The large man—Rob, she assumed—chuckled. “You sure you know how to shoot, girly?”

      She struggled to hold back a hysterical giggle as the small man puffed out his chest and edged forward. Grip tight, she raised the arrow’s tip. “I’ll do it,” she warned.

      The man took another step forward, jolting her into action. She snapped back the string and aimed downward. The arrow speared his soft leather shoe with a thwack. He yowled, fell to the ground and clutched his foot.

      “Little bitch bloody shot me!”

      Rob’s and the third man’s gazes narrowed and Eden’s heart tightened as she fumbled for another arrow. They closed in quickly and Rob snatched an arm, squeezing it until the arrow fell from her hand as she squealed. He pinched her wrist, sending a sharp bolt of pain through her arm, and she sagged. There was no hope now.

      “You’ve only made it harder for yourself, girl,” Rob said in a rough, growling tone. “You’ll not fight us off now.”

      As he pulled her tight against him, the reek of stale sweat clouded her senses. Throat closing, she shut her eyes and cursed the burn of tears.

      Then uttered a prayer. “Please, make it quick,” she begged.