Chapter One
Poison
I move through the quiet yacht, replaying every part of the plan in my head. It’s been a week since I saw the news report with my brother, father, and sisters begging people to help find me. Every hour since, I’ve mapped out my escape, meticulous in every detail. I want to live through it. But if I don’t, at least I’ll know I gave it everything I had. Either way, freedom will be mine, even in death.
Andrus has left me unmedicated for the first time in six months. For the past week, I’ve proven I can listen, that I’ll be a good girl and do as he says. From the moment River and I were kidnapped back in August, the drugs never stopped. My body aches for them. I crave the numbness, anything to escape the reality that I’m still here. Stuck with this man and his twisted idea that women are his to do whatever he wants. That he owns us. That we are beneath him. Now his guards lie unconscious on the floor, the same men who abused me every chance they had.
No one is coming for me. No one even knows where I am. Because of the news coverage, Andrus won’t risk taking me out in public. I’m trapped on this yacht, miles from the coast. That leaves me with only a few options, and death is one of them.
I’m not suicidal, so I’ll do everything I can to survive. For months, even while craving the drugs, I knew I had to get off them. I’ve been stockpiling the pills, hiding them in my room, in a place where the guards never search. I don’t swallow them. I barely eat, because I know the food is laced too. They stopped using needles after the bruises became too obvious, which led to the pills I now use against them. My only defense is to be smarter. Stronger.
We’ve been moored in Elliott Bay outside Seattle for over a week. I know where I am now, and I know I can get away from him here. I can blend in, disappear, travel anywhere I have to. But I can never go home to Alaska. Not while Andrus is alive. He’s threatened to kill my family and friends, and I won’t be the reason they die. When he threatened to take my niece, sweet little Skyler, I knew I had to run.
Tonight, when Andrus took his jet boat into Seattle to have dinner with friends, I knew it was time. I pulled out my stash of pills and drugged the skeleton crew left behind to watch me. The kitchen and cleaning staff are all gone, taking time off, same with the mechanical crew. Only the first mate and a guy filling in for the engineer remain. I’ve taken care of them all.
I hate having to hurt them, but they’ve all hurt me in some way. Some by touching me when they thought they could get away with it. Andrus doesn’t share me, but that doesn’t stop them from trying. They do everything they can without full penetration. I’m tired of being their plaything. The others have hurt me with their silence, their indifference. They don’t care that I’m being kept here against my will. For that, they will die too.
In the six months since I was captured and sold to Andrus, the old me has been dying a little each day. My family used to say I was stubborn and defiant. It’s why my mother and I have zero contact. That, and what she did to my brother, Thad, and the love of his life, Scout. How she told Scout to abort my niece. How she even paid her to do it. Scout didn’t, thank goodness, but my mother’s manipulation destroyed them.
Now here I am, ready to defy my owner. I was born and raised in Alaska. I’m an independent woman, and I will save myself.
I keep moving through the yacht, making sure I don’t forget anything. I had to drug the guards hard. They might have overdosed. I don’t care. I stripped them both and pried off their Kevlar vests. In the engine room, I find fire-resistant jumpers and gloves but no shoes or socks that will protect me from burns.
Standing on the back deck, I look over the stash I’ve gathered in the last fifteen minutes. I don’t know how much time I have left, so I need to hurry. The Seattle skyline glows in the distance, the Space Needle shining above it all. An island sits about a good mile from where the yacht is anchored. We aren’t in the main traffic lane for the big barges, but we’re far enough out that no one else will be hurt by what I’m about to do.
The oven gas is already seeping into the kitchen. I’ve started a leak on the pressurized diesel in the maintenance section and bilge. I only have a short time before my ignition source sparks and everything goes boom.
I secure one Kevlar vest over the jumper and wrap the second around my legs, then move carefully to the dive platform at the stern. This is the part I couldn’t plan. I feel confined, but the gear should help protect me from burns and soften the impact when I hit the water. I pull a hat over my hair that is no longer deep purple. It has faded and is growing out, my natural medium blond creeping back at the roots.
The only light out here is the red beacon flashing to warn others we’re here. The interior lights don’t reach this far, and if they did, I turned them off so no one would see me. My hope is to swim to the island if I survive the explosion. Andrus will think I’m dead, and I like that idea. I worry that after all the beatings I’ve taken these past few months, my body won’t handle the swim. The lack of food hasn’t helped either. The thought that I might not make it to the island scares me, but I’ll try. I’ll do whatever it takes to escape this living hell I’ve been trapped in.
I know I don’t have much more time. The cigarettes I left burning should hit the matches any second. I stretch my arms out, preparing to jump. The weight of the vests will initially drag me under, but they should protect me from the impact.
“Goodbye, Thad, Daddy, Ryder, Skyler, Scout, and River. I love you all.” I say their names like a prayer, hoping I’ll see them again someday. I jump as two things happen at once. I hear another boat approaching in the darkness and the yacht explodes behind me.
The blast throws me into the air. Searing heat scorches my back, legs, and arms. My feet burn, and I scream. The hair I didn’t stuff into the hat singes. My wrists blister as the gloves slip off, and I feel the flesh bubbling. The blinding light and heat sting my eyes, making them water. My throat aches with every scream, full of raw, searing pain.
When I finally hit the water, it’s nothing like I expected. I thought it would be like hitting the pavement. The passing boat caused a wake, saving me from the massive number of broken bones I could have had. But my face slams into the water, and it’s like running into a brick wall or someone’s fist. Bones snap. My scream, already garbled, becomes a silent cry in my head until the pain and shock of the cold water shut my mind off.
I lose consciousness as I sink into the depths. I’m going to die… trying to save myself.
Pain radiates through my whole body, followed by awareness of sounds and smells. I hear the beeping of machines. Even as I try to control my breathing until I know where I am, my body betrays me. My heart races. Beeps surround me. Then the sharp smell of antiseptic and cleaning chemicals hits my nose, mingling with the dry air from the tubing.
I’m in a hospital. I survived, but the amount of pain I’m in begs to differ. Everything aches—from the tips of my toes to the hair on my head. I can’t stop the motion of moistening my lips, and that’s when I hear a chair rustle next to me. I want to turn my head and look, but I can’t move. Every muscle is locked in place by heavy medication.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe now. I got you.” A soft female voice comes from next to my ear. “It’s a good thing I was on my way to check out the yacht when it exploded, or you’d have been killed,” the woman says. “I’m Maisy. I help rescue women like you. You’re listed as a Jane Doe, and I said I found you, not that you came from the yacht.”
It takes a herculean effort, but I try to shake my head, only to find it trapped in something surrounding it. My voice croaks, barely more than a whisper. “Never safe from him.”
“I’ll help you. I told them you were conscious when I found you, but you couldn’t remember who you were. Keep it that way.”
“Well, looks like our girl is finally awake,” another woman says from across the room.
I try to open my eyes, but all I see is darkness. I think I lift a hand, but it flops back onto the bed.
“Don’t force movement. It’s going to take some time. You’ve been in a coma for three weeks. The doctors started reducing your meds a few days ago.” I hear the second woman approach, her shoes squeaking against the floor. Every other sense seems to take over for my lack of sight. “I’m your nurse, Pamela. I’m going to put a straw to your lips. Sip. It will help so you can talk.” As she speaks, I feel the movements around me, then the plastic against my dry lips.
I open my mouth and take a deep pull, but she pulls the straw away before I get enough.
