Page 2

What is the definition of insanity?

Oh, yeah. Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

I stare down at my chipped and blood-caked fingernails.

Maybe I am insane. I never thought I was before.

The window calls to me. Not because I could ever fit through it, but because it’s the only source of light in my room. If I’m going to get out of here, I need to know my surroundings.

At the moment, all I know is what I learned from eavesdropping on conversations and what my father mentioned.

The Grave Saints are a huge presence here in Death Springs, Texas.

There’s a town two hours east of here, though.

If I can get to Salvation, maybe I can find a way to get some money and leave the state.

I’m not dumb enough to believe that staying anywhere long-term is going to be feasible. Outlaws like the Saints have allies everywhere. I might be on the run for the rest of my life.

I can’t think of that now.

No, right now, I need to plan my escape.

I pace the small ten-by-ten room. My only shot will be to get to a vehicle.

Luckily, I learned how to hotwire a car a few years back when I’d been desperate enough. All I need is something with enough gas to get me out of here.

The sound of banging, loud voices, and screams has the hair on the back of my neck rising. I’ve lost track of time. My heart beats wildly just as a man flings open my door. I scream and back away into the corner as one of Preacher’s other men pounces.

He spins me around and presses me hard against the wall.

Shit. My cheek is going to bruise.

In seconds, he has my hands tied together with a zip tie. I clench my hands as tight as I can to make more room. If I can just get outside, I can make a run for it. I don’t even care if they have guns. I’d rather be dead than trapped for the rest of my life.

A blindfold is thrown over my eyes and tightened to the point of pain. Then I’m yanked, stumbling out of the room.

All I can hear is shuffling feet, whimpers, and low threats as we’re herded out of the building.

I pretend to trip and fall to my knees, uncaring of the additional scrapes and bruises.

What are a couple more bruises to my already battered body?

Gravel bites into my skin, but it’s almost a relief not to have the sharp edges digging into my bare feet.

The man escorting me grunts his frustration.

“Be right there,” he snaps when someone calls over to him to hurry up.

His hand wraps around my upper arm, and he jerks me to my feet. We’re farther behind the rest of them. That much I can tell due to the lack of shuffling around us. If I can just slow down enough, I might be able to get away.

I’m about to take my chances by snapping the zip tie and running blindly when the sound of gunshots echoes through the air.

My escort curses, and I’m thrown to the ground. We grunt in unison before I hear the distinct sound of a gun being cocked.

“Stay here,” he threatens. Then he’s off, his boots kicking up gravel.

I breathe heavily, stunned, but it only takes a few seconds to realize this is the Hail Mary I’ve been praying for. I thrash around until the zip tie breaks apart. Then I yank my blindfold down to my chin.