Sophia Sullivan was slammed onto the hood of the SUV.
The cold metal bit into her skin through the thin fabric of her clothes.
Her wrists were bound tightly behind her back with coarse rope.
The red stilettos made her ankles look delicate and fragile.
The scar-faced man leered as he approached.
The headlights blinded her.
Sophia suddenly tensed her wrists.
The rope snapped with a sharp crack.
"Pity," she said, pivoting on one foot.
Her heel struck with brutal precision between his legs.
A bloodcurdling scream tore through the night.
The scar-faced man crumpled to his knees, clutching himself.
Sophia lifted her leg again.
The red-soled stiletto cut through the air with a deadly whistle.
The sickening crunch of vertebrae echoed in the darkness.
The man collapsed, eyes wide and unseeing.
Inside the cabin.
Ethan Sullivan ran his fingers along the edge of a broken glass shard.
The ropes binding him fell away.
He grabbed a wooden chair and swung it at Damian.
Wood splintered as Damian staggered back.
"You were faking weakness!" Damian shrieked.
Ethan picked up a jagged piece of wood.
Blood sprayed across his glasses.
Wiping the crimson streaks from his face, he pushed open the door.
Sophia stood by the car, catching her breath.
Their eyes met.
Distant shouts and pounding footsteps cut through the night.
"Guns," Sophia said, grabbing his wrist.
Two figures vanished into the blackened woods.
The wind carried the scent of blood through the trembling trees.