I reach down and check my pocket, but of course, they took it. And damn it, that was my favorite one.
I scan the room and it’s pretty bare—an empty table, a few chairs, some tools and an old shovel, and a cracked mirror hanging crooked on the wall.
Creeping toward the mirror, I try to pull off a sharp piece of glass, but it isn’t broken enough, so I do the only thing I can think of—I slam my tied fists into it. The glass splinters more, pieces raining down onto the floor.
I grab a piece and carefully angle it against the rope, sawing back and forth until the rope begins to tear. With each saw of the glass, my chest fills with determination. It takes what feels like forever, but the rope slowly comes undone. My palms sting from the cuts left behind, but I can’t stop. Blood covers the glass and drips onto the floor as the last string of rope rips.
I keep the glass gripped in my hand in case I need to use it against dumb and dumber.
Inching toward the stairs, I hold still, listening for any noise. When no sound comes, I step forward, but as I hit the bottom step, whistling drifts from behind the door. The lock clicks and the door creaks open.
I move out of sight and wait, holding my breath as if he’s going to hear me. My heart pounds, making this even worse. There’s only one way out of here, and I need this fucker out of my way. I peek around the corner, seeing the man I’m assuming is the one who had a mask on back at the bar. Not the blond one. He’s nowhere in sight.
The second he notices the broken chair on the ground, he looks around, confusion washing over his face.
“What the fuc—” I don’t waste any more time as I drop the glass and grab the shovel next to me, bringing it down on his head.
Karma’s a bitch.
He drops to the ground with a groan, but I don’t wait around for what might happen next. I swoop down and grab the piece of glass, making a run for the stairs.
“Emris!” he tries to yell, but it’s not that loud. Definitely not loud enough for anyone but me to hear.
I run up the stairs, not caring about what might be waiting for me on the other side—at least until I clear the basement door and arms wrap around my waist from behind.
“No!” I shout, struggling with everything I have to break free from his hold. Doing the only thing I can think of, I bring my head back as hard as I can. He’s bent low enough that the back of my skull connects with his nose, but he still doesn’t let go.
I glance down, desperate for a way out, and that’s when I see the blood dripping from my hand. I’d forgotten I was gripping the glass from the basement.
Fuck, if the cut on my hand wasn’t deep before, it definitely will be now.
Tightening my hold on the glass, I drive it down into his thigh. He grunts in pain and the grip around me disappears. When I look over my shoulder, shock is written all over his face as his gaze flicks from me to where I stabbed him.
“If you think a minor wound from that tiny piece of glass is enough to stop me”—he takes a single step forward—“then you are sadly mistaken.” A smile spreads across his face as the initial shock wears off.
He wipes the blood from his nose but doesn’t move from his spot.
I turn and bolt to the front door. I don’t hear anything behind me as I pull it open and rush outside. The sun is beginning to rise, pale light filtering through the trees surrounding the edge of the property. I look around, noticing there’s nothing but a tall black fence closing off the land. A few cars are parked near a garage, and beyond that, a long dirt road stretches away from the house.
I’m in the middle of nowhere.
Not another person in sight.
Looking over my shoulder, I see him leaning against the pillar, arms crossed, watching to see what I’ll do next.
Is this an inconvenient time to notice how attractive he is?
Yep. Most definitely.
I don’t wait around to see what he’s planning. Instead, I take off down the long dirt road, hoping—stupidly—that he’ll let me go.
8
EMRIS
I watchfrom the porch as she sprints down the dirt road, shaking my head at her antics. There’s nowhere for her to go. That road alone stretches nearly ten miles. It will take her all day. I want her to believe she has a shot at freedom before I bring her back.
The plan wasn’t to keep her but to take her back to the bar and let her go about her normal life a tad richer—giving her hush money because it would only be fair after what we’ve put her through in such a short amount of time. But she sealed her fate the moment she decided to fight me. No one has ever dared to do that. It’s always been an easy fight. Everyone is usually so scared, they cower and beg for their lives.
