AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But she doesn’t let me finish.
“She has him!” she shrieks, her panic palpable.
“Has who?”
“Shay!”
“Who has Shay?” I ask calmly, as panicking won’t solve a thing.
But what she says next changes everything.
“I’m sorry. I lied to ye. I thought I was doin’ the right thing.”
“Who has him?” I repeat, commencing a jog to my truck. “Aoife!”
She begins to sob, but through her tears, I hear the only thing which matters. “Camilla. I’m so-sorry.”
My tires leave skid marks as I tear down the street, heart in my throat as I speed toward the unknown.
Three Hours Earlier
My wrists are rubbed raw, but I persevere because I can feel the cuffs slipping free.
I am done being a prisoner, especially when I have no idea who holds me captive. Aoife is merely a puppet. Liam was the one who brought me here, but why?
What purpose do I serve?
No demands have been made. Not to me, anyway. But I am certain they have been to Punky. I’m being held as collateral, but for what? And for whom?
Whatever the reason…I refuse to sit around and wait.
As I’m twisting my wrist, ignoring the pain, I hear the front door open and Aoife enter with Shay. I assume she’s picked him up from school. His excited footsteps pound down the hallway while she follows.
She doesn’t bother to check on me, which is her error because I am getting out of this fucking house. Today.
“Oh feck, I forgot the milk. Mummy won’t be long. Don’t open the door for anyone. Okay, Shay?” I hear keys jingle, and then the door slams shut.
I don’t know if this is a sign from the universe, but I’m going to exploit it.
“Shay!” I call out, listening for any movement. I hear it a second later when the door unlocks, and Shay enters my room.
“Hi, Cami,” he says, extending his hand. “Do ya want some of my biscuit?”
I’ve grown to really like this kid. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry. But can I ask for a favor?”
Shay nods, biting into his chocolate chip cookie. “Sure.”
“Do you think you can find some soap or cream and bring it to me?”
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but when he realizes I’m serious, he quickly runs from the room. He returns a moment later with a bar of soap.
“Oh, good boy!” I praise, unable to contain my happiness.
He walks over to the bed and offers it to me. But I need his help.
“Do you think you could rub the soap around my right wrist? I promise, it’ll be okay.”
I can sense his apprehension as he knows being in here is wrong, but when he stuffs the cookie into his mouth, I know his rebellion has won. Reminds me of someone else…
