Page 35 of Love You To Pieces

“What the fuck?” I whisper, standing back at last. I was careful in my search, so the kitchen looks just as organized as when I first walked in. The refrigerator hums quietly, almost mocking me along with the AC that kicks on. As if they’re laughing at my struggle, or like they’ve seen this all before.

Maybe they have.

Not knowing what else to do, I finally find myself back on the bottom step of the staircase. Other than the bathroom and where I was stashed, the rest of the second floor is still unknown, with at least three rooms remaining a mystery to me. But God, I’ll have to be so, so careful. I know it’ll be a lot easier for Fox and Deacon to hear me, given that they must be up there.

What other choice do I have?

I suck in a breath, long and slow, before doing the same thing again and again until my heart finally slows to a manageable pace in my chest. Having a heart attack on the stairs won’t get me anywhere, I tell myself. It’ll just get me dead faster.

But God, walking up the stairs is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Harder, even than ramming a chainsaw through a man’s chest in that auto shop. It feels like I’m walking straight back into danger, even though I tell myself this is me finding a way out of it. With one foot in front of the other, I find my way back up to the landing to stare down the hallway with open doors on either side before the L-shape at the other end prevents me from seeing the cracked door with light peeking out from the bottom. I can hear low noises, maybe voices, coming from that direction, and something in me wants to know when the hell the two of them sleep.

Not that it’s any of my concern.

The first room I enter is another bedroom. This one is bigger than the one I was trapped in, and the bed is draped with a sheet. The side tables are as well, and when I explore further, I find a large, walk-in closet connected to a bathroom that’s even nicer than the spacious one at the end of the hall in the danger zone.

If I had to guess, I’d say this dark, dusty room is the primary bedroom. But that doesn’t explain to me why it’s so empty and lonely feeling.

The dust tells me that no one’s slept in here for months, if not years. The sheets look mostly undisturbed, and every step I take sends up small dust motes that shimmer in the moonlight coming in through the large, curtained windows on the other side of the room.

It feels like a shrine to some forgotten deity, and that alone makes me walk back out once I test the windows and find them locked, naturally.

Still, I can’t help but stop at the door, one hand on the frame, to look around the shrouded room again. It’s so quiet, like a grave, and I can’t help the shiver that runs down my spine as I wonder why this room is so unused, as opposed to the rest of the house that’s spotless and obviously lived in.

Not that it’s any of my business, and I doubt it has any bearing on whether I can get the fuck out of here in one piece or not. Sucking in a breath, I very gently close the door behind me before walking across the hall, surprised to find a study. Or, well, maybe a study. Maybe a trophy room, judging by the many pieces of taxidermy that adorn the walls and the large wooden desk sitting in front of the window. Without appreciating much more, I stride quickly to the desk, trying drawers in hopes of finding even a damn letter opener.

And yet, every single one is locked.

It’s painfully admirable how thorough the Shaw brothers are, and I am really not a fan of it. I roll my eyes up at the window, as if some silent god is going to offer me the kind of help that only exists in movies and religious texts. It hasn’t happened for me yet, but I can’t imagine hoping for it now is going to put me in any worse of a spot.

“Please, please. I’m not asking for much here. A knife. A blade. Maybe a razor. Just something. Better yet, a key,” I bargain in a whisper. “A key to unlock every single⁠—”

A sound that cuts me off from somewhere down the hallway has to be a figment of my imagination. The long, drawn-out whine has me almost levitating, and I’m sure that one of them has heard me this time. Clearly, that’s what that sound has to be.

But there are no accompanying footsteps. I hear something like a hushed, cut-off laugh, and murmurs of conversation that slowly fade back to inaudible from where I’m standing. Then nothing. But I still stand there, frozen with one hand on the imposing desk made of shiny dark wood and the other clasped against my side. My heart slams into my ribs in protest, begging me without words to run and get the hell out of here.

And I would if I had anywhere to go.

With the office a bust, I creep back out into the hallway, hesitating once I’m standing on the bare hardwood again.

I’m out of places to go, except the end of the hallway. I can hear something, and I still see the light from under the door just around the corner, but it’s my last option.

I don’t know what else to do at this point, unless I just go back to bed and swing my legs while waiting for my captors to decide what to do with me.

That’s a terrible option, the voice in my head objects. Not that I’m in disagreement. But I’m careful, so careful, to make absolutely no noise on the floor as I make my way down the hallway at a much slower pace than I have at all tonight.

If they hear me, I’m dead. I’m so fucking dead that no chainsaw or dog is going to save me. I almost give up and go back to the bedroom every time I hear a noise, and it takes everything in me to keep going until I’m forced to turn down the other side of the L-shaped hallway.

The bathroom from earlier sits on my left, door open, nightlight on. But I know there’s nothing in there, given my brief sojourn in the shower earlier. There’s another door, this one closer to me, that’s old and chipped with no light under it, but when I automatically reach out to twist the cold, brass knob, I find it locked.

While there’s only one small, normal latch on it, the keyhole leering up at me in dismissal, I won’t risk forcing it open. Not when I’m so close to where I can see warm, orange light spilling from under the only other room up here.

Another sound catches my attention, but I don’t look at the door. Instead, I look out the single-pane window overlooking the garden, staring into the moonlight that bathes my face in pale, cold light.

I have to get out of here, no matter how pretty it is to just stand here and look at the perfect property that I’ll never have any part of. It’s not fair how disarming it can be. It isn’t fair how⁠—

A gasp, then a snicker, makes me whip my head toward the mostly closed door, and I move to press myself against the wall beside it, just in case one of them looks out just right to see me.

“Shhh!” It sounds like Fox, and his voice is full of a humorous, affectionate laugh. “She’s going to hear you if you don’t keep it down, my love.”