I turned the key and pressed the gas pedal.
It didn’t turn back on.
I popped the hood and got out to look at it—hoping all the knowledge of a mechanic might hit me in the next several seconds.
I huffed and covered my face as I leaned against the car.
This had to be a fucking joke.
All the energy from the day collected in my chest, creating unrelenting pressure, like a huge weight had been placed on it. I looked up into the sky and screamed, releasing everything, all the built-up emotion I’d been pushing down.
“Fuck you, Rowen Blake! Fuck you and your money. Fuck you and your stupid house. Fuck you and your giant dick! I hate you!”
I didn’t, not really, but it still felt good to say.
Ding!
I grabbed my phone to see a text message.
Rowen:Did you really think getting away would be that easy, kitten?
Holy fucking shit…
I knew he’d get out, but I thought I’d be further away before he did.
Ding!
My stomach churned.
Rowen:The car won’t work
Rowen:You’re all alone
Rowen:And I’m coming for you
Rowen:RUN
Panic. Terror. Thrill.
Rowen was fucked up, but so was I. Even though I’d been trying to escape, a small part of me was glad he was still fighting for me, refusing to let me walk away from him, from us.
Come and get me, psycho.
After shoving my phone into my pocket, I took off into the trees, abandoning the car.
I ran as fast as I could, trying to get as far as I possibly could, hoping I was runningawayfrom the cabin, from Rowen. The adrenaline pumping through my veins gave me a little more endurance than usual, but it wasn’t long before I was wheezing, needing a break.
I found a large tree and leaned against it, my hands on my knees, taking a few minutes to regain control of my breathing and convince my brain I wasn’t actually in any danger.
Aren’t you, though?
He was pissed, broken,lost, when I left him cuffed to the bed, screaming like crazy, making all sorts of threats.
He’d already cuffed me to the bed for wanting to see my mom, even when I promised to come back. I couldn’t imagine what he was going to do this time.
That alone should have sounded the alarms in my head, but they were offline, their ability to function severed by the need I’d developed to be owned by my stepbrother from hell. To be chased and forced to submit. To be branded by him again and again.
Just thinking about him catching me had my puss—
