The Fall of V (The Henchmen MC 13)

I hoped it had batteries as my palm slipped over the grips on the handle, my thumb finding the button on the end, pushing.

And it lit up.

Right on something very familiar on the floor beside the door.

Something I had with me when they took me.

Something they had used to pull me back, catch me off-guard.

My purse.

I didn't even think.

Didn't stop to wonder if the contents were worth taking it, worth the extra weight. It was like there was some primal drive not to have any part of me left here save for maybe some blood stains on the floor.

I grabbed it, throwing it over my shoulder, but keeping the flashlight in my hand, just flicking it back off.

"Take a deep breath," I told Chris.

Because we were likely going to run like we never had before.

But also because we had no idea what we were walking into, what we might have to face, and a steadying breath was likely something we both desperately needed.

I sucked one in until my lungs burned, until my belly was distended, holding it for a second before letting it slowly out.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

There was conviction in that word, something deep and certain, something that said she felt it right down to her marrow.

And that determination was only going to do us good as I reached for the door, turned the lock, and moved outside.

The air felt colder than I expected, prickling over my too-exposed skin, making goosebumps form over every inch of me as a shiver racked my system.

The moon was blessedly bright, not hiding behind some clouds, making an already difficult task downright impossible, illuminating the grounds, massive and tree-lined.

We must have been facing the side property, a giant, crumbling retaining wall holding back a mass of overgrown vegetation, trees that were more like weeds, brambles, leaves that looks suspiciously shiny even in the nighttime - poison ivy.

It would have been the closest way to freedom, the side yard.

And while I was a pretty decent climber, I didn't know about Chris. And this didn't exactly seem like the time for a long conversation about anything.

I moved out a few feet, keeping my body pinned to the side of the house as Chris moved back a foot, shutting the door with a click that was quieted by the sounds of the night. Wind rustling leaves. Crickets chirping - 'stridulating,' Rey would have informed me, being a bottomless pit of critter knowledge. Whatever it was, it was loud, a symphony playing our escape music.

I was sure I would never hear it the same way again.

I took a few more steps, pulling in another breath before I popped my head out from the corner of the house to check out the backyard.

I yanked back with a hiss, heart slamming.

"What?" Chris whispered, barely loud enough to meet my ear, and I was only inches away.

"Three guys," I told her, leaving out that they had semi-automatics strapped around them, one hand on the guns themselves, ready to use them.

If there was that kind of force in the back, the front was likely no better. But we had to check.

Worst case, we could scale it.

I wasn't the strongest of girls, but with fear and adrenaline coursing through me, I was sure I could pull Chris up with me if she couldn't manage on her own.

I moved around her, nodding toward the front. "Gotta check," I whispered, hip brushing against hers as I moved.

It was only maybe twelve feet, but felt the length of a football field before I was at the other corner, steadying myself as I peeked my head around to see.

There was one guy toward the far end of the property, eyes scanning around before there was the distinct - but indecipherable from this far away - sound of a man's voice. I froze, watching as the man in the front smiled, then followed the voice, seemingly toward the back with his friends.

"We need to run like hell," I told Chris, giving her just a second of eye-contact to be sure she was with me, then turning back.

I didn't think.

I didn't weigh the pros and cons.

I just threw my legs out - suddenly incredibly thankful that I had inherited them from my father - and ran as fast as they could carry me, heart slamming, wind whipping through my hair, the sound whooshing against my ears.

I didn't realize I was alone until I heard her.

Not Chris.

No.

V.

My grandmother.

"Missing something, Ferryn?" her voiced called, sickly sweet, like a witch asking children to come inside for tea when she intended to bake them into cookies.

I knew.

I knew without turning.

But turn was what I did.

To face my grandmother.

To find her with Chris right in front of her, a gun pointed at her temple.

She must have frozen.

Chris.

She must have frozen when she felt a hand grab her, because she was still holding the top to the toilet tank, could have used it before that gun pressed into her temple.