Chapter TWENTY-THREE-JEZEBEL

Dusk had fallen, wrapping the world in a shroud of muted gray. The air had turned bitterly cold as I sat tied to the trunk of a gnarly old tree, its twisted branches reaching out like fingers against the encroaching darkness.

The woods felt alive with malice. The unsettling stillness made me shiver. Each rustle of leaves echoed ominously in the growing chill.

I could see my breath misting in front of me. Like clouds streaming from my nostrils. I felt vulnerable out here, all alone with a madman somewhere between the ranch and the drive-in.

The sky darkened as the last remnants of daylight slipped away like a distant memory. I missed it. The rodeo. The film festival.

My heart squeezed, and I wanted so desperately to cry out loud. But I didn’t dare.

Even though my surroundings were familiar, the mood around me was dark, sinister.

I glanced up, wondering if we were going to get snow before the holiday—an uninvited thought that both thrilled and terrified me.