By the time I make it to the disused warehouse where her dot is, I can barely breathe. My lungs ache, and my legs wobble, but I tear toward her anyway.
I can’t let this guy hurt her any more.
She has to be okay.
Pushing through a door, I feel fiery hot pain tear through my side, while my ears fill with electric static.
I drop like a fucking fly.
‘Hello, Liam,’ a soft voice says, before the world briefly lights up, then sinks away completely.
THIRTY-FOUR
KAT
I’m so cold.
The hard iciness of the concrete floor is the first thing that filters into my awareness. Seeping through my clothes and into my bones, my hip aches where I lay on my side. The thumping in my head is hard enough that I verge on the edge of vomiting. The air is filled with the smell of damp and metal, and an acrid chemical scent beneath.
My wrists are so heavy.
I force my eyes open, but it takes a while to adjust enough to take in my surroundings.
There’s a distant light somewhere above and to my left. A bare bulb on a long cord, swinging enough to make the shadows it casts move. The ceiling is too high to see; it sinks into the gloom. From what I can see, everything from the walls to the flooris grey concrete. What looks like abandoned metal machinery lines the walls, and broken pallets.
There’s a metal post at my back rising up into the blackness, rigid and cold against my spine. Dark shackles ring each of my wrists, and seeing them sends a bolt of pure terror into me. Two thick chains wind their way from the shackles to the post, secured with a padlock. The chain is long enough that I can pull myself into a sitting position and have some freedom of movement.
My head screams as I hold onto the post for support. I remember the sack over my head. And being slammed into the wall. The car boot… That’s all.
‘Liam,’ I whimper.
My voice is dry and broken.
To my surprise, I hear a soft groan behind me. I turn, and there he is, chained in the same way as me to another post. His back is against it, but his head droops forward onto his chest. There’s a long red gash at his temple, and the thought of this fucker giving him yet another scar stirs up rage in me. The rise and fall of his chest is the sole assurance he’s still breathing.
‘Liam,’ I call, louder.
He doesn’t stir.
I crawl as far as the chain will let me, and I can only just nudge him with my foot.
‘He’s going to be out for a while,’ a voice says, making the hair at the back of my neck stand.
Snapping my head around, I hunt for its owner.
There’s a man sitting on a metal chair, his elbows on his knees. His body is relaxed as he watches me. Narrowing my eyes, I focus on his face, but with the swinging light, it’s hard to make out details.
Then the light swings true.
Dark hair. A wiry frame. And a face I know.
‘Sam?’
Ellie’s coffee shop beau.
Sam gives a slow, wide smile that freezes me to the core.
‘You don’t know me,’ he says.
