"Hey there, little man," the man said, crouching slightly. "You lost?"
Nathan's instincts, quiet and sharp and trained into him without his ever fully realizing it, kicked in before fear had the chance to paralyze him.
Don't run toward the house if you're closer to a hiding place. Don't scream first, scream loud enough to be heard, then move. Never let a stranger get between you and an exit.
He didn't answer the man. He turned and bolted, not toward the house, which was too far, but toward the thick hedge line to his left, small enough to slip through gaps a grown man couldn't follow easily.
"Grab him!" the second man snapped, and suddenly there were hands, rough and fast, closing around Nathan's arm before he'd made it three steps.
He screamed then, loud, sharp, exactly the way he'd practiced without ever understanding why it mattered, a sound designed to carry, to alert, to be impossible to ignore, and bit down hard on the hand gripping his arm.
