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Summary
He lets out his own breathy laugh, making the gun pressed into you dig harder.
“You like being chased?” He asks now, The forest around you is empty. Any sight of the other men playing your little game is nonexistent. Your gun is pressed into your back uncomfortably. You go for the knife in your belt, not that you have a chance, but it’s fun to put up a fight anyway. The hand holding his own knife drops to grab yours before you even have a chance to touch the hilt, throwing it above your head, leaning even more into you, and folding your leg even further into your chest. The gun never falters, probably making a nice mark on your forehead by now. “I asked you a question.”