Home. Safe.
And then…
There was a knock on the door. Sharp raps that cut through the quiet night.
I can’t breathe.
The image of the wounded man stumbling onto my porch, his blood seeping between his fingers, and the desperation in his eyes. It flashes in my mind all in a rush.
Blood.There was so much blood pooling on the weathered boards, spreading like spilled wine.Hewas there too.Calder Bishop.The devil in physical form, standing over the man’s crumpled body, a knife in his hand dripping red.
There’s a crack in my chest at the reminder of the way he looked at me with those icy-blue eyes, cold as a winter lake, empty of mercy or hesitation. They said everything he needed to say without speaking a single word.
I’m here because of him.He kidnapped me.Chased me through my own house like prey. He must’ve knocked me out when I begged him not to kill me. The memory of spots in my vision pops up, but it’s all I can remember until now.
“This isn’t real. It can’t be,” I whisper to the empty room. I give the handcuff another desperate tug, harder this time,ignoring the bite of metal against my wrist. “Please, please let this be a terrible nightmare.”
Except I know it’s not.
The ache in my wrist is too sharp, too real. The fear coursing through my veins like liquid fire is too visceral to be imagined. The danger I know I’m in presses down on my chest like a physical weight, making it hard to breathe.
This is real, all of it.
Why am I here? Where am I? What is he going to do with me?
His family owns land all over the county. I could be hidden anywhere. However, it’s probably somewhere deep in the woods, a place where no one will be able to hear me scream. I think of all the terrible things I’ve heard about the Bishops. The rumors about murder, death, and crime. Before, I found it hard to believe, but after last night... seeing Calder with that knife in his hand.
The Bishops are dangerous, and I’m as good as dead.
That reminder only makes my thoughts run out of control like a wild horse.
What does he want with me?
Is he going to kill me? Keep me here forever? Torture me?
The possibilities are endless, each more terrifying as the options flip through my mind like an old slide show. Logic tells me that if he went through all this trouble, he might think I’m more useful to him alive than dead. Otherwise, why bring me all the way into the middle of nowhere and chain me up? Even logic can’t ease my worry.
Breathe. Relax.
I tell myself, forcing air into my lungs in slow, measured breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth, the way Mom taught me when I had panic attacks after she got sick. I can’t let the dread of the situation sink its claws all the way intomy spine, can’t let it paralyze me completely. I might be naive and innocent, but I’m not stupid. I have to survive.
Iwillsurvive this.
My eyes burn with unshed tears that I blink away. I won’t let them fall. Won’t let myself become weak.
What’s crying going to do? It won’t get me out of here.
An image of my father pops into my head. His gentle face lined with worry and sadness. He needs me. He doesn’t have anyone else, only me. After Mom died, I became his whole world.
If I disappear, if I don’t come home, it will destroy him.
I need to find a way to escape, or to convince Calder to let me go.
His motives are unclear, but he has to have some type of plan.Right?I gather my thoughts, force myself to think methodically, and assess my surroundings.
The room I’m in is small, claustrophobic even, with the bed taking up a good portion of the space. The mattress is thin but not uncomfortable, the sheets rough but clean.
There’s a small end table beside the bed, scarred wood that’s seen better days. A wooden trunk is tucked against the end of the what, queen-sized bed?
