She pursed her lips so nothing would fall out and compound her already dire situation. Had she been free to, she would have told him that no, Valenti’s status had nothing to do with how she felt for him. She would love him no matter what. His very act of staying penitent for what was ultimately an unfortunate set of circumstances, while harrowing and formidable for having such a stranglehold on him, revealed an honour and loyalty that touched her. The wide river of feeling that spoke to his humanity that made her love him. And yes, her frustration that she couldn’t overcome it was breaking her heart into even smaller pieces right in this moment.
‘Because my great-grandmother was third cousin to the last king of Reykland by marriage if that helps?’ Her captor peered hopefully at her, triggering another hysterical bubble.
She swallowed it just in time. ‘How long was I unconsc…asleep?’
‘Five hours,’ he snapped grumpily, then shrugged. ‘I misjudged the dosage, but you’re awake now. We can get on—’
‘May I have some water? I—I have a headache.’
Annoyance flashed over his face again, then he looked out his window. Following his gaze, fear filled her when she saw the shack. ‘I have to go inside. I can’t bring you in, just yet. It has to be right. Will you wait here. Behave yourself?’
At her hurried nod, he opened his door, and went into the shack.
Alone, she sucked in another breath, tried to think rationally. Five hours. More than enough time for Valenti to know she was missing. Her spirits plummeted. Because she knew it would be yet another reason to confirm he was right to write her off.
Maybe this was what was required for him to wash his hands of her completely? To absolve himself of all responsibility?
Lotte swallowed down the lump of self-pity and looked around.
The back doors were on child lock when she tried the handle, but he hadn’t locked the front. Dragging herself upright, she half sobbed in thanks that he hadn’t tied her legs.
Without a second thought, she threw herself into the gap between the seats, relief surging when the door opened at her push. She shoved it further and dove through it, yelping when she landed roughly on her hip. Ignoring the stab of agony, she clambered up and raced from the car and the dwelling that didn’t look much more than a hunter’s shack.
Terror tore through her at the angry bellow behind her. She didn’t look back.
The road leading away from the shack was dark and unpaved. Rocks dug into her bare feet as she fled, blind in the inky darkness.
All too soon she heard pounding footsteps.
The sob she’d tried to stem finally broke through, tears blurring her vision. Angrily she blinked them away. She wouldn’t let him catch her.
She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t.
Her frantic thought screeched to a halt as headlights flared to life, in front of her.
She screamed.
Then the world turned upside down.
In the agonising seconds it took for his brain to connect with his feet, Valenti sat behind the wheel of his SUV, frozen in terror.
After roaming the Cartanian countryside for six hours, the sight of Lotte barefoot, running for her life, was almost too much to assimilate.
Perhaps she was a beautiful ghost come to haunt him.
Her scream tore him from his stupor. Just in time for him to watch her tumble head over heels, landing in a heap six feet from the front of his bumper.
Por favor, Dios. Por favor. Por favor.
He was reciting, pleading with the Almighty as he almost tore the door off its hinges to get to her, peripherally registering his team wrestling down the man who should’ve been behind bars, awaiting trial for stalking the woman Valenti loved. The man some corrupt judge had set free on bail in the middle of the night ten days ago and managed to keep secret from the authorities through a series of fraudulent paperwork. A criminal and judge Valenti swore to destroy if it was the last thing he did.
He stumbled to where Lotte lay winded, her chest rising and falling with gulping sobs until it stilled when her eyes landed on him.
More tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away, but fresh ones surged.
‘Valenti?’ she whispered.
His hands shook frantically as he reached for her, cutting the ropes binding her wrists. ‘Sí, it’s me,litla.’ He barely recognised his own voice. Barely recognised the man he’d been before that race to Reykland weeks ago. The man who’d been filled with guilt and duty and so much self-righteous bitterness he could perform three dozen TED Talks on it and not run out of subject matter.
