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“You’re making a mistake,” I threatened as the sheriff walked us out of the building, the empty halls making it easy since everyone was in class. “They’ll come for me.”
“I hope they do,” he replied me as we came to a police cruiser and my blood turned to ice. He opened the door to shove me inside, leaning in close, too close, as he whispered, “But it’ll be too late to save your innocence.” My head slammed against the side of the car as he thrust me inside, and I suddenly prayed Leah didn’t give Dominic the message because I couldn’t live with myself if I was the cause of any of their deaths.
My head throbbed where it had hit the car, but I refused to rub it. Any hint of weakness would be a mistake around my kidnapper, and I was determined to escape at the first opportunity.
He hummed to himself as he drove the same three notes repeatedly, the sound making my skin crawl. After a few minutes, a buzzing pierced the air stopping and then starting again. My fingers hooked around the bars separating us as I eyed my backpack in the seat next to the sheriff. My phone was tucked in the outside pocket, close enough to touch if not for the damn bars.
“Your friends, I presume?” The sheriff reached for my bag and my heart jumped. If I could get my bag back, and get to the gun hidden inside, then maybe I could escape him. But I’d have no chance if he found it.
“It’s probably my dad. He was supposed to pick me up. I wonder what he’ll think when he finds out the sheriff picked me up from school and I’m not at the sheriff’s office when he comes looking?”
“Oh, your daddy will know, little girl,” the sheriff promised, taking a deep breath, his eyes flickering in pleasure as I stared at him in horror, pushing myself back against the seat as far as I could. “He’ll know what happened to you and if he wants to stay alive, he’ll keep his mouth shut.”
“You seem confident,” I bit out, rage pushing my fear down as I thought of this man abusing his power, of taking me from the school and hurting my dad. “It’ll be your downfall,” I promised him, retribution in my eyes.
“Feisty,” he laughed. “Let’s see how long it takes to break you of that.”
Another buzz of my phone and he growled, grabbing it from its pocket and tossing it out the window. I watched as it hit the road and bounced out of sight, my heart hammering with fear and anger as he started to hum again, his hands on the steering wheel at ten and two.
We zoomed through town, the markings on the car ensuring we weren’t stopped for speeding and it wasn’t long before we were turning down a gravel road. I tried to track our route so I would know how to get back, but as we drove deeper into the woods, the road steadily getting worse, I started to despair of ever being able to make it out.
Our arrival was met with a crowd, mainly men with hungry eyes and a few females, whose expressions remained blank as the sheriff hauled me out of the car by my hair. I struggled against his tight grip, but was relieved to see my backpack in his other hand.
“Look what I got,” he announced, pride in his voice, as some of the men moved in closer, jackals ready to pounce. “A breeder,” he answered himself, dragging me closer and rubbing against me as I tried to hold myself away from him.
“You’ll never get a turn so I don’t know why you bother,” one of the men called, laughing, and I felt tension snap through the sheriff.
“You either since you’ve yet to produce a pup,” the sheriff sneered and the other man snapped at him, the sound so animalistic I wasn’t sure it had actually come from his mouth. The sheriff scurried back, holding me in front of him like a shield and the other men gave him looks of disgust.
“I’ll take her,” another man leered, reaching for me as I cringed away. He thrust his hips a few times, his hand rubbing his crotch and I couldn’t stop my lip from curling. “Look, the bitch thinks she’s too good,” he cried and his hand came around so fast I didn’t see the blow, but I felt it. The only thing that kept me upright was the sheriff’s hand in my hair. Blood flooded my mouth and I coughed, bloody spit hitting the ground.
The sheriff let go of me in disgust and as I fell to the ground, I grabbed my backpack. He must have thought I was trying to catch myself because he let it go too and I landed on it, curling my body around it protectively. My fingers itched to grab the gun and shoot them all, but common sense told me I didn’t have enough bullets.
