AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Eighteen
Daphne
Icouldn’t fight him.
I tried, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t big enough or strong enough or fast enough. I never had a chance to run. I couldn’t stop Emerson’s father from binding my wrists. He used zip ties. They’re rough on my skin. Cutting me. My knuckles throb every time my heart beats. He hit my hand with a gun. I wriggle my fingers over and over to make sure they’re not broken.
This is the nightmare. The real one. This is what kept Leo awake for two weeks, searching for me. This is the thing he always tried to stop.
And I called him paranoid. I rolled my eyes at him. Got annoyed at my security.
I was a fool.
I couldn’t see Emerson’s father very well the day he came to Emerson’s house, but I know it’s him. I recognize his voice. He looks like Sinclair, except he has dark eyes. All three brothers must have their mother’s eyes. I notice it in the small part of my brain that’s not losing it.
What am I going to do?
What do I do?
Fear submerges me, colder than the ocean. I’m overheating at the same time. Sweating in the winter clothes Emerson bought for me. His father didn’t take any of them off. That’s a good thing. None of the three men in the van have taken my clothes. Horror twists my stomach. I concentrate hard on not throwing up. If I do that, they’ll have an excuse to remove my outer layers, and I don’t think they’ll stop there.
I think they’ll rape me.
My zip-tied wrists shake, and my hands. It won’t help me to imagine the worst.
I need to pay attention.
The two men in front are in dark clothes. They look rough. Hardened. The driver feels me looking and meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. He leers, and I snap my head to the side and look out the window.
Don’t be sick.
Do not be sick.
The man in the passenger seat is on his phone, tapping quickly at the screen. Maybe this is just business for him. After a minute, he turns off the screen and murmurs something to the driver.
My heart is beating too hard to focus. One deep breath, then another. The first line of a book. A girl who always wore blue.
Emerson’s dad is my best bet. He’s the only one I have any connection with. He sits on the side bench of the van, his eyes distant. They left me on the floor. If I unfold my legs—there. I’m a little closer to the back doors.
Every instinct says that I should stay still, small, and silent. That I should put on my headphones and listen to the whole album. That I can wait this out.
I can’t afford to wait.
It’s up to me. I don’t know if Emerson followed us. I don’t know if he can. I talked to my dad in his office, didn’t I? I can talk to Emerson’s dad while the van bumps over potholes.
My mouth doesn’t want to open. It’s hard to get the words out. “Why are you doing this?”
He glances over at me, and something about the way he turns his head is familiar. It reminds me of Emerson. Families are like that. You pick up habits from one another, even if you don’t want them.
“Why does anybody do anything?” His voice sounds like Emerson, too. It also sounds like my dad. But mostly, it sounds like the end of me. This is a man who’s going to use me as a means to an end. Emerson never did that.
“Money. You’re doing this because you want money.”
Emerson’s father sneers. “You say that like you’re so much better than me. What the hell do you know? You were born with a goddamn silver spoon in your mouth.”
He’s…
Hurt. I can hear that in his voice underneath the anger and the derision. This man is a criminal, and he was awful to his sons. He did serious damage. But there are layers to his voice. I force myself to hear them all.
