Before she can make up her mind, the security system screeches to life.
I turn back to the laptop, crack it open again, and pull up the feed.
“Blyat’.”
“What?” Kira asks, drawing closer.
We both see it happen in real time. My new bride, sprinting full-speed down the driveway…
… and straight towards the gate.
11
SIMA
I run as fast as my legs will carry me.
My lungs are burning, my heart hammering so hard it drowns everything else. The cold night air stings against my cheeks, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
There’s only one thought in my head, and it’s,Get out.
You have to get out now.
The driveway stretches out forever. My shoes slap against the gravel, slick and uneven, tripping me up every few steps. To make things worse, I keep glancing over my shoulder, half-expecting to see Petyr bursting out of the house at any second. Coming to drag me back, chain me to the bedposts, have his dirty way with me.
The thought sends an odd heat down my spine. Just fear, I’m sure.
I don’t slow down until I reach the gate.
The iron bars loom tall, black, and massive against the moonlight. My chest burns with the effort of my impromptu marathon. If I get out of here alive, I am taking a cab everywhere for the rest of my life.
I grab the bars, but the gate doesn’t budge. My fingers slip on the cold metal as I try to figure out a way to open it.
But there’s no latch. Despite the old-fashioned look of this gate, it must open electronically, and only with the blessing of the master of the house.
Shit.
I glance behind myself again. Any second now, he might realize I’m gone. Before that happens, I have to be much, much more gone than I currently am.
Climb.Cold sweat breaks across my back as I realize what I have to do.I have to climb.
The only problem with that?
I am terrified of heights.
I stare up at the gate, heart in my throat. There aren’t any footholds going up, but the bars do grow wider. If I can reach past the halfway point, maybe I can slip through. Maybe…
I roll up my sleeves, take a huge breath, and start climbing.
The second I pull myself up, my foot slips. Turns out, my sensible heels are not so sensible when it comes to daring, vertical escapes.
I cry out, then curse myself because that’s the second stupidest thing I could have done after slipping.
I grit my teeth and swear under my breath.Okay, fine. Noheels. Barefoot works just fine for chimpanzees. It’ll work for me, too.
I try again, planting my foot on a lower rung, pulling with everything I have. My palms are already stinging from the cold metal scraping them raw, but I can’t stop. Iwon’tstop.
I won’t be a prisoner for one second longer.
