Page 80 of Love You To Pieces

The gravel crunches under my feet, and so many voices are screaming inside my head that this is one of the worst decisions I’ve ever made in my life. I’ve escaped these men multiple times now. I’ve escaped death more times than I have any right to.

But here I am, waltzing in like I want to get chopped up into mincemeat and sold to the highest bidder. Somehow, my resolve wins out over my fear, though it’s a very close thing. So much of me wants to bolt, and I know that Fox and Deacon wouldn’t hold it against me.

Selfishly, though?

I need answers to the questions that have been itching inside my skull like buzzing flies for the last week. I need to ask them so many things before they’re dead, and I know this is my only opportunity to do so.

“Please be careful, Pearl,” I whisper to my dog, reaching out to touch her head. I’m terrified they’ll kill her, but then again, I’m also terrified they’ll kill me. So really, neither of us is particularly safe tonight.

The song of frogs and crickets fills my ears like an orchestra, and I get closer to the old, dilapidated sawmill building before switching on my phone light to give myself some kind of visibility here. My steps sound too loud on the gravel, but I remind myself that I’m trying to get noticed, even though I’m not trying to act like it.

The wooden building has definitely seen better days, and none of the rusted, broken-down machinery littering the property around the wooden structure looks like it’s worked in decades. A few large, discarded logs lay scattered around the useless hunks of metal and bolts, along with one large pyramid of logs, stacked on their sides and at least ten feet tall.

I look at all of it, taking my time to study the machinery that I could never have a use for. I would run my hand over some of the more interesting-looking parts, but tetanus seems like a real concern here and I can’t remember when my last booster was.

If I’m going to die, it’s going to be to something more impressive than lockjaw.

Pearl pauses and looks up at me, then away, as a low growl builds in her throat, though it’s one of confusion rather than outright aggression. The hair on my arms stands up, and I clutch my phone more tightly in my hand while convincing myself yet again not to run away.

It’s sort of too late anyway, I think ruefully. Especially when I can hear footsteps approaching on the gravel, no matter how quiet they’re trying to be.

I volunteered for this, I remind myself. Fox talked me through everything. He said both of them would be here; the guys just needed the distraction so the Hills’ attention would be pulled so they could get close. He said he knew the Hills well enough to know that they wouldn’t just walk up and shoot me.

Especially after all this, he said, they’d want to take their time.

That sends a shudder through me, and as subtly as I can, I send a quick emoji to Fox, the screen barely lit and the phone itself on silent. I prepared it before this, so all I needed to do in this moment was hit the send button, and both Shaw brothers would know that at least one person had shown up, their attention on me.

What if it doesn’t go through?

What if they get caught?

What if something happens?

What if they leave instead?

That last thought hurts, and I recoil from it. I tell myself that there’s no reason for me to think that. I remind myself of the look in their eyes when they talked about me staying, when they told me they’d protect me, was fucking real.

I tell myself that even if it isn’t, I don’t have anyone else.

“Hello?” I ask finally, feigning surprise as I turn around with my phone light arcing through the machinery. “I-is someone here?” Barely having to fake the fear. I’m terrified enough of this situation already.

A man ambles out from behind one of the larger pieces of machinery, and in the dark I can see his beady, watery eyes fixed on me. I don’t recognize his face, though I barely got a look at them that night. He licks his lips, and it sends a shudder down my spine that I barely conceal.

“Whatcha doin’ here, little meat?” he drawls, his words and his voice making me want to vomit or bash him over the face with something. “I thought you were tucked up safe in the Shaws’ house.” He speaks unhurriedly. Unbothered, as if he has all the time in the world for this conversation. Hell, he even leans against a log, his arms folded over his chest.

A flicking noise from behind me makes me jump, and I whirl around just as Pearl growls in warning to see another man, this one with grease stains all over his pants, lighting a cigarette. He’s watching me as well, his eyes never leaving me, even with Pearl acting as a significant threat at my side.

“I escaped,” I whisper. “Please, I-I’m just trying to get home. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be with them.” Spitting the word like I’m actually afraid of them, instead of the two men in front of me. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

God, I hope I’m not laying it on too thick. Though with how terrified I am, none of this is really an act. My fingers ache, knuckles tight around my phone, and I move to adjust my grip, to give myself some relief before I break a bone.

“Don’t matter what you done,” the brother behind me remarks. “Just matters what ya are. You done a nasty thing to our brothers, ya know?”

“Brothers?” I repeat, like I have no idea that they’re family. “I don’t…Do you mean the man in the basement? And the one who attacked me in the theater? I didn’t have a choice! Really, I didn’t know—” The man in front of me suddenly walks forward, and I push Pearl back before she can attack him. I need this time, though I’m sure Deacon would be pulling his hair out to know that I intend to let this man grab me.

Which he does, his fingers clenched around my upper arm, grimy and clammy against my skin. I gasp, jerking back from him, but he doesn’t let me go. Instead, his smile becomes cruel, and he sneers at my discomfort.

“Stupid little bitch,” he remarks. “Coming here like this? You were safer with those fucked-up brothers.”