I don’t reply because I can’t make that promise. If there is a single hair out of place on my wife’s head, there will be no place on this earth they can go where I won’t hunt them down.
Rage swirls in with the terror, fueling my steps as I leave the house and the woman behind, my brothers quick on my heels.
“I’m getting her back,” I growl, tearing away from the ranch and toward the location of the hunting lodge, not knowing if she’s going to be there or if she’s even alive.
The thought churns my stomach.
I’m not sure how I’m meant to survive in a world where Niamh no longer exists.
Chapter 38
A putrid smell clogs my nose, making it hard to breathe, and it’s stifling hot in here which worsens the thick stench. Something is rotting close by; the stink of blood, that metallic, cloying odor unmistakable. There’s a throbbing in my head, and as I peel my eyes open, the light that slips in through a single square window makes my eyes sting.
Keeping my moves slow, I look around. Four walls made of wood surround me, and hanging from the ceiling by the door is a deer, suspended from a hook attached to a crossbeam. That’s where the rotting smell is coming from. Flies buzz around the corpse, crawling over the walls and the windows, and beneath it is a large, dried blood stain.
My stomach turns, but I can’t make a noise, not when I hear Oscar’s voice beyond the closed door. I’m on an old, worn mattress, the once white material now stained yellow and brown. There are buckets in here filled with ropes and bear traps, rusted and twisted metal piled in the corners, and a curved, corroded blade on the wall along with other hunting equipment.
It’s like something out of a horror movie.
He hit me. Knocked me out and brought me here.
Wetting my parched lips, I try to sit up but quickly realize my wrists are bound behind my back and ankles tied together.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I try to keep the panic at bay, but it rises anyway, making my heart beat faster, which worsens the throb inside my head.
He was in on it the entire time,pretendingall the while he washelping.
Someone needs to warn Roman. Fuck. What if they’ve already got to him?
“What’s the plan here, Jenson?” Oscar grunts, his voice close to the door that looks to be hanging by a single hinge. “I got her like you asked, now what?”
“Just a bit longer,” Roman’s father answers, “Make him sweat a little before I make my demands.”
“You really think he’ll just give it over?”
“I have his wife,” Jenson scoffs. “If he doesn’t, I’ll kill her.”
My heart sinks to my gut, but the handle on the door pushes down, that single hinge squealing, so I quickly close my eyes, pretending to still be unconscious.
“How hard did you hit her?” Steps sound across the floor, stopping at the foot of the mattress.
“Hard enough,” Oscar sounds amused, like he enjoyed doing it. “She’s pretty.”
“Mm,” Jenson grunts. “Not very smart though.”
It’s nearly impossible to remain still as I feel his hand run up my leg, but he stops just above my knee and pulls away. Their footsteps sound again, moving away before the door closes and silence settles. I don’t open my eyes for another few minutes, not until I’m sure they’re outside, and only then do I crack one open and then the other.
I have to get out of here. I can’t let Roman give up his home for me, not his family’s legacy.
Shifting onto my side, I try to wiggle out of the rope but all it does is cut and burn, biting in hard enough I can feel my skin tear with it and my ankle restraints are just as tight, leaving red marks where they sit flush around my legs.
I look at the curved blade on the wall. If I can just get that hook into the rope, maybe I can cut through it. As quietly as I can, I roll to the edge of the mattress and get my feet on the floor, using it to stabilize me as I try to push up from the mattress to sit. My head spins once I’m upright, and I have to take a precious second to get my bearings again, my blood throbbing inside my ears.
I have to get out of here.I have to. Moving onto my knees, I rock until I can catch myself on the balls of my feet, catching my balance with my shoulder to the wall and then slowly, I lift, keeping myself against the wall to hold my weight. My knees wobble and my muscles smart, but I grit my teeth, holding the pain back, keeping it in check.
Their voices echo in from outside, far enough away that I have a chance here. Turning my back to the wall, I bend my arms up, my shoulders protesting, but then I feel the rusty tip of the blade pressing into my skin, cutting straight into it. I don’t make a sound, not even as I repeat the same motion, trying to get the position right. Blood runs in a steady stream down my arms and over my hands, dripping from my numb fingers and onto the floor, the steady drip vibrating through me. Still, I don’t stop, not until I feel the curved tip of the blade finally hook into the rope.
