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There’s a clatter of metal and another series of grunts and mutters. From the sounds of it, Sawyer injured him somehow, and he’s now stitching the wound shut.
That’s my girl.
“She ain’t gonna be happy at first, ya know, but you weren’t either, remember? She’ll adjust eventually, and soon enough, our little family will be happy.”
A growl forms deep in my chest, and the rage burns hotter from the way he’s planning a fucking future with Sawyer. One that consists of her being imprisoned on this island with someone capable of murder and abusing his own daughter. He will hurt her, and most likely take advantage of her body. Those thoughts alone are enough to send me into a tailspin.
Just barely, do I refrain from sending my fist up into the door. It’ll accomplish nothing, but even if I did manage to get it open, Sylvester has a gun and can shoot me dead in a heartbeat.
“You know I’m gonna have’ta punish you for what you did,” Sylvester continues after a moment. “I only left ’cause my back was hurt, and I needed to get the upper hand. I was forced to camp out in this tiny cave at the opposite end o’the island. They been frequentin’ the one with glowworms. And you know my leg ain’t no good with climbin’ in those caves, but I was gonna take you to see ’em again. Don’t think you deserve that anymore, now do ya? I’ve taken good care of you yer whole life, and you repay me by showin’ them the radio.”
There’s a long pause.
“Come here, Kacey.”
I close my eyes, and tremors rack my body from the rage. It doesn’t matter if I yell and cause a scene, he’s either going to silence me permanently or continue because he knows damn well that I can’t do a thing to stop him.
There’s an ocean of violence in my bones, but I need to play this smart.
A sharp crack followed by a soft, garbled cry arises, and I silently make my way down the ladder as quickly as possible. There’s no fucking way I will let that girl suffer any more abuse. And there’s no fucking way I’m staying in this goddamn hole.
I’m taking a massive risk, but my only option is to burn my way out.
I rifle through the first aid kit first, finding a tiny bottle of rubbing alcohol inside, along with alcohol pads. Grabbing the blanket next, I tear off several sections, roll them into tight ropes, and drench them in the liquid. When I’m done, I snatch the gas lantern and pads too, and head toward the ladder. As I quietly climb, perspiration forms along my hairline while the sound of flesh hitting flesh continues.
Once I reach the top, I pause, waiting for a sharp slap to crack open the glass lantern on the ladder, the sound swallowed by an undeserved punishment.
Then, I pause, waiting to ensure that Sylvester didn’t hear me. Another loud crack follows up the last hit a moment later, so I quickly unwrap the pads and shove them up between the wooden planks throughout the ceiling. My hope is that he won’t notice them until it’s too late, distracted by his sick punishment. Luckily, he doesn’t, and anothercrackfills the room. Sweating and nearly blind with rage, I stick one of the tattered pieces of the blanket into the open flame.
It ignites in a flash, singeing my fingers as I shove it up between the wooden planks, my eyes burning from the smoke. I repeat the same process with the rest, reaching out past the ladder to spread them out. The flame should catch onto the wet alcohol pads and spread faster.
Then, I scramble back down and tuck myself into a corner, hearing the moment Sylvester either sees or smells the burning cloth.
“Motherfucker!” he bellows, stomping toward the quickly spreading fire. He unlocks the mechanism and throws the cellar door open, proceeding to fire off two shots from his gun, the bullets a loud boom in the small space.
But the fire is still growing, and Sylvester can’t afford to let the lighthouse burn down.
If he loses Raven Isle, he loses everything.
Curses spill from his mouth as he returns to frantically working to put out the fire.
I’m flying up the ladder within seconds, finding Sylvester stomping with his boot over the flames, while Kacey watches on, unmoving as she stares at the red glow with wide eyes.
I charge toward Sylvester just as he notices me, knocking him over and landing a single punch into his face, stunning him long enough to rip the gun from his hold and smash the butt of it into his nose.
He’s out cold, and I’m already heading toward the stairs.
Sawyer is either on the second floor or up by the beacon, and I don’t have the luxury of time to search both.
With Sylvester knocked out, the fire will continue to spread, which could prevent me from getting to her.
I bolt up the steps, down the hallway, and into our shared room. But it’s empty.
“Sawyer!” I roar, nearly collapsing when I hear an indiscernible noise coming from Sylvester’s room. I skid across the floor as I run back into the hallway, up the steps, and into his bedroom.
She’s sitting on the floor by his bed, metal cuffs wrapped around her wrists, a chain dangling between them. The link is trapped around the leg of the bedframe, preventing her from escaping. Dried blood coats her left hand, trails of it leaking down her arm. A piece of duct tape is slapped over her mouth, tears streaming down her beautiful face and brightening her blue eyes to gleaming sapphires.
“That fucker,” I spit, grabbing the frame and lifting the entire bed, allowing her to slide the chain out from the leg. She must’ve been tugging at them, because her tiny wrists are irritated and starting to bleed.
