Chapter 4
A soft laugh escaped her lips. “It already has.”
He pulled back from her, confusion in his gaze.
Britt’s fist whipped with lightning speed, connecting with The Visitor’s trachea. A gurgled noise hissed from his mouth as he grabbed his throat. She went on the offensive, pushing him backward onto the twin bed. Her moves were instinctive as if she’d attacked before. Maybe she had. She couldn’t be sure. Thrusting her hand between his legs, Britt grabbed his balls and twisted until he grimaced in pain, his eyes rolling back in his head.
His arms moved in a chaotic motion, one hand grasping at his throat, the other trying to push her off him. But his discordant movements were no match for her. She pounced on top of him, pressing a knee against his neck as she maneuvered her body to face his waist. His legs thrashed and kicked as he struggled beneath her. She increased the pressure as she groped through his pockets for something to help her escape. No phone. Just a wallet and … an access card.
She dropped the wallet and grabbed the access card.
Leaping away from The Visitor, she gathered her wet clothes and yanked the rusted handle. The door was heavier than sheexpected, opening just inches as she slid against the wet, tiled floor.
But The Visitor wasn’t done with her yet.
He rammed into her, the force sending her careening into the door, slamming it shut. The peeling paint scraped against her exposed flesh.
Britt gritted her teeth, a feral growl escaping her lips. “Get off me!”
Months of pent-up rage roiled within her as she lifted her leg and crashed it against his shin. He stumbled back but quickly regained his balance. The Visitor’s arms snaked around her chest, crushing against her ribs with brutal force. The air was driven from her lungs in an agonizing whoosh. Black spots danced in her vision as he moved one hand, wrapping it tightly around her neck and pressing against her windpipe.
As she fought to breathe, she heard his labored breaths whistling through his damaged throat.
He was too strong for her.
She had to be smarter.
Britt stopped fighting against his hold, forcing her body to go limp. The dead weight in his arms confused him just long enough for his grasp on her neck and chest to loosen. She pushed against the wet tiles, her feet slipping beneath her. Her body hurled downward with force, crashing to the floor. Pain detonated through her knees and up her legs, but she didn’t hesitate. There was no time. Spinning around, she kicked with both feet at The Visitor, connecting with his groin. He toppled backward against the twin bed again, but this time, his head crashed into the wall with a sickening thud. His entire body went slack.
Britt stared at the blood staining the wall.
The Visitor slumped motionless against the bed she’d slept in, held against her will, for over a year. It was a poetic justice she’d only dreamed of, but it was her reality.
Her release.
She didn’t budge, waiting to see if he would stir. After several minutes, she scrambled to the bed on all fours. The Visitor’s arm hovered over the wallet. Picking it up, she found several thousand dollars in large bills. Enough to fund her escape. She felt for a pulse. Thready and weak but there. He’d be unconscious for a while, but she had no clue how long.
She wouldn’t be around to find out.
Survival mode kicked in. Lurching to her feet, Britt wrestled into the wet clothes. Rushing toward the door, she fought a wave of dizziness as she pulled the handle. Fear-fueled adrenaline gave her a boost of strength. The door opened wide enough for her to slip outside.
A wall of hot, putrid air suffocated her, stagnant in the tight hallway. The door slammed shut behind her with a loud bang. A corridor stretched before her. She had a head start and a destination that The Visitor knew nothing about.
Taking a step forward, she exhaled a shaky breath.
She was finally going home.
Chapter 5
Lachlan stood near the entrance to the living room, freshly showered and dressed after the morning’s unfortunate events. The windows were open. The sheer white curtains blew in the ocean breeze as dawn lit the night sky. The space was littered with evidence from last night’s play date with his little girl. Dolls were all over the place, from the kitchen to the living room.
He spoiled the little hen too much. He knew it. He didn’t care. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for Paloma, including agreeing to the late-night game when it was well past her bedtime. She should’ve been asleep, not weaving fantastical stories that she acted out with the dolls until midnight. But it was the least he could do since too much of her life was limited, restricted, and under strict rules. From the moment she was born, she needed to be protected at all costs. He wouldn’t let her suffer the same fate as her mother.
And that meant making sure Titus Freeman never found out Paloma existed.
But if Titus was dead, it changed everything for him and his daughter.
Lachlan sucked in a deep breath, an overwhelming sadness weighing on his shoulders. That bastard didn’t die soon enough. If he had, maybe Britt would still be alive.
