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For them, anyway.
And maybe if I’d gone with the original plan—to run and keep running until I was so far away that no one could find me—I wouldn’t be on my way back to Raúl.
Did I really want that, though?
To sacrifice everything I’d gotten to experience with Cary?
No.
I knew the answer without even considering it for a second.
Absolutely not.
The short time I’d gotten to spend with Cary was the best thing that ever happened to me. I’d never felt more myself, more free, or more cared for than I did when I was around him.
If nothing else, at least I would have some warm memories to cling to while I had to endure whatever was ahead of me.
Maybe if I focused really hard, I could escape back into my memories, insulate myself from anything happening to me physically while I dive deeper and deeper into my mind.
I’d never really been into meditation. Growing up, that was sort of frowned upon as something practiced by other religions. We were supposed to pray.
And, hell, maybe I would pray.
It had been a long time.
I’d absolutely had a crisis of faith sometime in the years I was with Raúl. It was hard to believe in a benevolent god who would let you endure so much, who refused to answer your prayers.
But everyone prayed in the end, didn’t they? At least when the end was bloody and violent and you just wanted a way out.
The trunk took a sudden, hard turn, catching not only me, but my abductor off-guard, sending us flying into the side wall.
He’d endured most of the impact. The sensation of it must have surprised him because, suddenly, his hands released me.
I couldn’t claim that I was being brave at that moment. Hell, I couldn’t even claim to be thinking at all.
It was pure instinct as I wrenched away, as I became hyper-aware of a metallic clattering to the ground in the far, dark corner.
The truck had been empty.
Save for him.
And me.
And the gun.
The gun.
It had to be the gun.
Granted, I would never claim to have any experience with a gun. Yes, objectively, I’d been around them a lot. But only because the men I’d been around had them and used them.
I’d never even been allowed to hold one before.
Cary said that, eventually, he wanted to show me how to use one. He said it was an important part of self-defense, just as important as me taking lessons at the local boxing gym so I could learn how to fight off an attacker.
I suddenly wished the princesses had invited me to join them sooner than we’d originally agreed on.
But it was too late for that.
I didn’t know a single thing about self-defense.
But I did understand the basic mechanics of a gun.
Aim.
Pull trigger.
Anyone could do it.
You just had to be desperate enough.
At that moment, I wasn’t sure a single person on Earth had ever been as desperate as I was.
I flew toward that corner, feeling around on the ground for the metal, my fingertips getting caked in dust and some sort of oily grime that I was trying not to think about.
Behind me, I heard a curse and shuffling as my kidnapper recovered and realized he’d lost his weapon.
He was coming.
Just as that thought formed, though, my hands closed around the gun, still warm from his hand.
I fumbled with it for a second, needing to make sure I was holding it the right way.
It was heavier than I thought.
Though I wasn’t sure if it was actually, physically heavy, or if it felt heavy with the implications of what I was willing to do right then.
Aim.
Shoot.
Maim.
Kill.
But at the end of the day, if it was him or me, I was going to choose me. I was going to choose the future I had started to really fantasize about. I was going to choose the man I was seriously starting to fall for. I was going to choose hope and promise.
And he could rot in hell for all I cared.
I scrambled around, putting my back to the wall for stability, crouching low so I was harder to grab.
Then waiting as I heard him getting closer.
His footsteps moved in tandem with my heartbeat that I could feel in my chest, my temples, and my neck.
“Stupid bitch. You think you can hide from—“
I wasn’t trying to hide.
I was trying to wait until he was close enough that I didn’t miss.
And when he was, I didn’t even hesitate.
My finger curled, the trigger pulled, and the bullet sailed into his body, sending him flying backward.
I didn’t think.
I popped up.
I moved forward.
I stood over the shadow of him on the ground.
And I pulled the trigger again.
Just to make sure he wasn’t going to be able to get up and grab me again.
I was moving again before I fully understood my intention.
