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On edge, listening for any movement around me, I creep down the narrow hall, praying the door at the end is the one I need. Moving closer, I check the handle and find it locked.
Fuck. No. This can’t be it for me. I can’t be stopped now.
I need to find something to open this door with.
Maybe the stairs are the other way. Maybe I picked the wrong direction. My chest thumps in pain, knowing I am losing precious time. Fear is trying to latch onto me, but I push it away. I turn around, peering at the daunting length of the walk I have to make. This better be the way since I don’t have much energy to waste.
Walking as fast as my weak legs will allow, I notice a corner next to the door at this end. Peering around it, I let out the breath I was holding when I see the stairs. Oh, thank fuck. If there’s anything out there, some higher power, I fucking owe them.
Sucking in a deep breath, I shake out my limbs as I stare up at the height of these stairs. I slowly guide myself up the incline, my limbs tightening with each step as pain rips through me from the movements. Stumbling to the top, I grab onto the handle, praying once again it’s unlocked.
Please, please be on my side still. I need all the help I can get. Turning the handle that might seal my fate, I let out a small cheer when it pushes open. So damn close. I can do this.
I push it open, again listening for any sign of Zayan, not hearing a thing. Blood pounds in my head and panic crawls over my skin from expecting him to be standing there waiting for me, but he’s nowhere in sight.
The white front door comes into view and I rush there as fast as I can. It may be old and have paint chipping, but it’s probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It’s the sight of my freedom. I don’t slow down as I try the handle, but it doesn’t budge. I run smack into the wood, the impact sending shockwaves through my body. Frantically running my hand over the lock, it looks like it has a two-way deadbolt that needs a key to open it on each side.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I have to find another way.
He’s smarter than I thought.
My eyes frantically search the surprisingly normal-looking home. It seems like a well-lived in place, but it lacks any authentic air of homeliness. It’s cold and distant, just like Zayan. He was smart to bring me to a place like this. No one would expect the rich, stuck-up psychopath to live in anything but a mansion. Shaking off the need to judge the space, I hunt around for another escape route.
The windows around me are all bay windows without any way to open them unless I shatter them. I want to make my escape as unnoticeable as possible, and I don’t want to draw any unwanted attention by breaking anything unless I have to.
I slowly creep toward the back of the house, finding no back door. My eyes catch on a small window over the kitchen sink, though, one that I might be able to push open and crawl through. Hurrying over there, I lean over the counter, pushing the window with all my strength, but it won’t budge.
All my newfound confidence threatens to escape me, but I can’t let it. This isn’t how this ends for me. I’m getting out of here and running as far away from Craibridge as I can. Huffing out a breath, I stare down at the shiny metal of the sink, seeing my scared blurry reflection.Think, Tara. Think, think, think.Looking up at the window, I see the cause of my inability to open the window.
Nails.
Rusty nails are keeping the window clamped shut.
Just as I go to reach for them, a loud engine rumbles, the vibrations tickling my hand on the counter. Panic slices through me as I desperately scan for anything to break the window with. I rip open drawers and search in the cabinets finding them all empty. Absolutely nothing in this kitchen to use.You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
Fuck this. My right hand is already likely broken from the handcuffs, but my left is still good.
As fast as I can, I wrap part of the sheet I’m wearing around my good hand and brace myself for what I need to do. Sucking in a breath, I punch the glass as hard as possible, but the only thing that cracks are my knuckles. I try again, over and over, until it finally cracks and shatters into a million pieces. I push the lingering shards away and prepare to climb through it. The drop from the window isn’t too high, but it will definitely be painful to land.
The jingling of keys sounds from the front of the house, and I’m sure he just heard the sound of a window breaking. It’s now or never. I crawl up the counter and squeeze myself through the window. Stinging erupts as glass slices into my bare feet, except I can’t focus on that.
I push myself through so fast that the hard fall knocks the wind right out of me, but I don’t wait to recover. I need to keep going. I have no time to waste. He’s going to get me. He’s going to catch up to me and take me back and beat me if I don’t move. Struggling to my feet, my toes sink into the damp grass as I propel myself forward, cutting through strangers’ backyards. I just pray no one tries to stop me or shoot me.
Dogs bark around me, and the cool grass makes my feet cramp, but I push. There’s no doubt in my mind that Zayan will quickly figure out I’m gone, if he hasn’t already. So, I need to get as far away as possible.
Blood runs down my hands, coating the sheet I have wrapped around my frail body, but I don’t stop. I come to a fenced-in yard, forcing me to cut by the side of the house toward the main yard. It’s risky, but it’s my only option.
My chest heaves rapidly as I will my legs to keep moving. Looking both ways, I don’t see any movement, so I take my chance and cut across the road, but as soon as I do, I hear a familiar rumble of an engine.
Shit.
Fucking shit.
I’m screwed.
He knows.
