Blinding pain shot through her brain, and the piece of paper floated to the floor as her hands went to her head, pushing against her skull in an effort to stop the pain. She screamed at the brutality of the attack, and fell to her knees as images burst through the darkness, coming at her fast and sharp. Too many to focus on just one, but the predominant face that stalked these patches of memory was one she knew well.
Jaxon’s dark visage flew past like a ribbon blowing in the wind. His image twisted and turned, his face laughing at her, his eyes full of passion, his brightly colored tattoo vibrant and moving against her skin.
Emotions pounded her, both dark and light, and she groaned at the amount of information her mind was struggling with. It was all jumbled, confused, and as she held her head, she rocked back and forth in an effort to stop it.
Her soft whimpers echoed in the room, and what seemed like hours later, the images began to fade along with the pain.
She was wrecked. In that short period of time, she was done for.
Everything around her seemed thick, as if crawling with a layer of reality that wasn’t truly real. Dull though her mind had become, she tried to get to her feet. But her body was drained of energy and she fell back onto her butt.
The microwave emitted a loud, high-pitched bleep that just about shattered the last few nerve endings that still remained untouched, and she winced from the agony of it.
Outside, it was dusk now, and her eyes skimmed the large expanse of wilderness through the windows, feeling a twinge of unease as a shadow drifted across the porch.
Was it just the wind playing tricks on her mind? She tried to focus her eyes but there was nothing there, and for a moment she wondered if she had imagined it.
A soft click at the door convinced her otherwise, and her heart leapt deep into her throat, pounding out a rhythm of fear that rushed through her veins.
She inhaled sharply and felt her mouth go dry as fear began to invade and conquer, turning muscle to jelly in seconds. The sound of silence echoed louder than anything she’d heard before, and white hot jolts of pressure jump-started her heart, making it harder to breathe. Along with the nausea that lay at the pit of her tummy, she felt light-headed.
It was not Jaxon who had entered the cabin. Of that she was sure.
She held her breath as hesitant footfalls crept closer, and then she felt a small moment of relief as they moved farther away, and closer to the stairs that led to the basement.
Libby slumped down, hidden behind the large granite countertop. Her eyes quickly moved about looking for a weapon. She felt a sliver of adrenaline shoot through her body as she spied the large drawers directly in front of her. Surely something of use could be found there.
She glanced toward the massive window that ran along the front of the cabin, but from where she hid, there was no reflection that she could see.
Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to blot out the fear that was burgeoning within her.
Whoever had just entered was no friend of hers. The scent that filtered down to where she hid was not Jaxon’s. It was full of darkness, depravity, and malice.
And it was a scent she recognized all too well.
It was one of the monsters! They had found her.
She swallowed the lump of tension that rode the back of her throat, wondering where the hell Jaxon was. With that thought a new one struck, spreading agony to her heart. It hit fast and hard, heightening the emotions that were already jumbled deep inside her.
What if they had harmed Jaxon? What if at this very moment he was out there in the woods, dying and in need of her help?
Her eyes fell to her hands, watching them shake as she slipped them between her thighs in an effort to control her weakness. The ever present ache at her side began to burn, and she hissed softly as her ribs contracted and the pain worsened.
They had done this to her. They had weakened and broken her spirit.
In that moment of contemplation a spark ignited. It fed on the remnants of adrenaline that moved through her body, feasted on the tattered bits of memories that had both teased and tormented her only moments before.
And it grew, with a heat and ferocity that should have surprised her but somehow didn’t. This was her time, her window of opportunity to do the right thing. It was time for her to reclaim her life, even if it was about to end.
Libby calmed her mind and felt a sense of peace wash over her. No longer would she let them pull her strings as if she were a puppet. They had taken many things from her, but if this was to be her final battle, then so be it. She would make it a battle they sure as hell wouldn’t forget.
She eyed the deep drawer that was at her level and quietly eased it open, but found only lids and containers inside. One after the other she slowly opened the drawers, until only the top one remained. She couldn’t see into it, unless she exposed herself, so her fingers flew over the utensils before settling across the cold, solid length of a large knife.
A scuff slid across the tiles behind her, followed by another…and then another.
She grabbed the knife and held it to her chest, willing the pounding beats to slow so that she could think. He wasn’t even trying to hide his presence.
Her enemy thought her weak, pathetic, and up until a few days ago that’s exactly what she had been. Good. That should work to her advantage. Right now it was the only one she had.