He doesn’t put down the gun.
“You were going to run … weren’t you?” he asks, his voice low and scratchy, like that of a psychopath, and it brings chills to my bones. “And here I was, thinking you were grateful.”
“I-I am,” I stutter, still moving backward.
Because that gun is still in his hands.
“That’s a really strange way to show your thanks,” he replies.
Sweat rolls down my back as I bump into the wall. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to—”
“Get away from that House?” he interjects. “Yeah, I know.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, hoping he’ll forgive me for trying to steal his supplies.
The look on his face darkens. “Sorry’s not gonna cut it.”
My eyes widen.
“I’m gonna need something more than that.”
I swallow, hoping this isn’t going where I think it’s going. “I don’t understand.”
“I think you do, girl …” he says as he steps closer and closer until I have nowhere else to go. “Those boys back at the House want you back. And I told them you weren’t here. Do you know what kind of risk I’m taking by lying?”
My body grows icy cold. That phone call … it was all a lie.
He didn’t rescue me to keep me safe.
He rescued me to use me for himself.
His hand reaches for my face, caressing my cheek. I shudder in place as tears form in my eyes. “I think I deserve something in return. And you need to prove to me that it was all worth it.”
Bile rises in my throat as this disgusting man leans toward me. His hand slides down my neck as his eyes glide across my chest as though he’s testing the goods to see if he likes them, and it sickens me.
Panic flushes my veins. “HELP!”
I’ve never screamed this loudly.
Suddenly, he grabs my throat and shoves me against the wall.
I try to yelp, but no sound comes out of my throat.
“Cheeky little girl,” he growls. He pushes the gun against my chest, and I hold my breath. As tears roll down my face, he parts the coat with his gun until that silly flannel is revealed again.
“This once belonged to my wife … I remember her wearing it on our honeymoon night as if it happened yesterday.”
Oh God. I knew it, and still, I ignored the signs.
“Please …” I whisper with what little breath I have left.
Suddenly, the door bursts open, and someone storms in. I’m choked to the point of barely being able to breathe, and I’m fading fast. My brain barely registers it when the guy shoving the gun against this flannel dress is dragged away, and his hands release from my throat.
I bend over and clutch my knees, coughing and heaving. It’s only when I look up that I realize who just came in.
Soren.
The guy who barely spoke has come to beat the shit out of the guy keeping me here for his own pleasure.
How did he get here so fast?
Never mind, it’s not important. No time to waste.
I have to run before he tries to take me back to Eli … because that’s exactly why he came to look for me.
While the two men fight, I grab the bag and throw it over my shoulder. I can’t get past them yet, as they block the only route. But I’m watching, waiting for my opportunity. The gun goes off.
I cover my ears and squeal in panic. The bullet ricochets across the wood and exits through the roof.
A hatchet hangs on the wall next to the rabbit on the hook, and Soren snatches it off. With a loud grunt, he attacks the man and buries the hatchet in his arm. The man howls in pain, and I can’t help but stare in complete shock as Soren butchers him. The arm with which the man was holding the gun drops to the floor as he shrieks in pain.
Then Soren focuses his eyes on me.
Adrenaline floods my veins, forcing me to act.
I jump sideways along the body as Soren leans over. Right then, the guy beneath us reaches for the gun with his other hand, causing Soren to fall while he tries to grab me. I barely manage to escape his grasp and make my way to the door.
I can’t help but throw one final glance over my shoulder at the two men still fighting over life and death. Even though Soren came to my rescue and saved me from that horrible man’s clutches, I can’t let him catch me.
So without looking back again, I run.
Chapter 5
Eli
I’m going through every bottle of liquor in the kitchen cabinets, and still, I’m left with an unquenched thirst. No amount of drinking can ease the pain inside my heart, not even this headache banging my head into a pulp.
Something slams open, and I look up from my glass in a half-drunken haze. More noise ensues, and I’m starting to wonder whether I’m dreaming it all up or if someone’s breaking into my house.