Buckled (Trails of Sin 2)

If he knows I found Raina, he’ll kill me. After seeing the damage he’s done to her, I have no doubt. I need to be quick.

My stomach solidifies into a block of ice as I run toward her and drop to my knees.

Padlocks secure the shackles, the chains unyielding when I yank on them.

“Raina?” I shake her bruised shoulder, rousing a moan from her throat. “Where’s the key?”

She blinks up at me with one good eye, the other sealed shut.

“The key.” I grip the cuffs on her wrists, my pulse careening into dizzying levels. “Where?”

“Kitchen.” Her tongue darts out, wetting busted lips. “Hook.”

“Hook where?” I strain my hearing, listening for the creak of the front door.

If he comes in, I need an exit plan.

The window.

I hurry toward it and sweep aside the blanket. No bars. It faces the woods out back and a shed that sits at the tree line.

Two window locks give way after a little force, but it doesn’t open. I put all my strength into it, grunting and losing precious seconds.

“Painted shut,” she whispers from the floor.

“Can you walk?” I remove the blade from my pocket and cut around the seams.

“Don’t know.”

The window lifts, and the bottled breath in my chest bursts free.

“The hook?” I close the window, leave it unlocked, and run to the door.

“Wall. Next to fridge.”

“Try to stand. I’ll be back.”

“No cops.” Her hoarse plea follows me out the door.

I close it behind me, return the lock, and listen.

His voice muffles through the thin walls, indiscernible but definitely outside. I take off toward the kitchen, locate the hook, the key. Oh, thank fuck.

As I come around the corner of the sitting room, he stands outside the window and lowers the phone from his ear.

I have two seconds before he turns around, and I use those to swing open the bathroom door and position my body to appear as if I’m just coming out.

He meets my gaze through the glass, and I hold my breath. After a suffocating moment of eye contact, he turns toward the front door.

I exhale loudly, wheezing, trembling, and burning up with chills. The key goes in my pocket. A soft smile settles onto my face, and I calmly lower onto the armchair.

If I bolt, it’ll make him suspicious. So I prepare myself for a horrifying chitchat with a monster while pretending a woman isn’t broken and chained in a room down the hall.

“Sorry about that.” He steps inside and closes the door. “Had a little emergency recently. Couldn’t ignore that call.”

“Everything okay?”

“Much better.” He scrutinizes me for the span of a hundred thundering heartbeats. Then a grin curls his lips. “Now where were we?”

“The stallion you tried to break…”

“Ah, yes. That there was some fine breeding.”

He returns to his chair and proceeds to tell me all about his horses, John Deere tractors, and the winter that wouldn’t quit.

My mind flails through the agonizing discussion, tormenting me with scenarios that end with me shackled in that blood-stained room beside Raina. I need to get out of here. Every second I delay is a second he could look into my eyes and register my fear.

I wait for a pause in his storytelling, and when it finally comes, I leap on it.

“I should get going.” I reach for my keys. “I have a long drive back.”

“Where to?”

“I’d rather not say.” I stand and offer my hand. “Thank you for answering my questions.”

“It’s been a pleasure.” He grips my fingers, and his thumb slides over my wrist, spreading a revolted shudder through my body.

He walks me out and stands on the porch as I move in a petrified fog to the car. He continues to watch me as I pull out of the driveway.

I turn in the direction I came, and the moment he’s out of view, I lose it.

My lungs burst, shoving air past my parched throat. My hands shake violently against the steering wheel, and tears pour from my eyes.

I’m terrified to go back, but I have no choice. He’ll notice that key missing, and when he does, Raina’s chance for survival disintegrates.

Pulling off onto a dirt path nestled in trees, I park the car out of view of the road. Then I type a message to Jarret. I outline the situation and provide the address of his dad’s house.

But I don’t send the text. It’s my emergency plan.

My parking spot is a five-minute hike from the house, through a field. I hope to hell Raina can make that trek. She’s around my weight, and I won’t be able to carry her.

From my overnight bag, I remove a casual sundress. I don’t have extra shoes, but at least she’ll have something to wear.

The walk back is a harrowing test of bravery. I’m not a courageous person, but I am stubborn. That stubbornness keeps me moving. The phone in my pocket gives me strength.