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I’m about to close the drawer when something catches my eye. At the bottom of the drawer, underneath the file folders, there’s a picture. Half a picture, actually, which I carefully lift before seeing the other half of the picture underneath it. It’s the fact that it seems so out of place that convinces me to pick up both halves of the photo and put them together, laying them on the desk and lining up the torn edges until the full image reveals itself.
It’s a woman. Smiling wide, she’s dressed in a tracksuit and standing in front of a balance beam.
And I know her. Well, not really, but I recognize her. She was a coach, a gymnastics coach. I met her once at a tournament years ago—her girls were tough, well-trained, and disciplined. But instead of coming off hard and cold, the way I expected, she was warm and encouraged her team. I remember thinking it seemed like she actually cared about them. Too many coaches inspired their gymnasts by being bullies, thinking that would push them just a little bit harder, a little bit closer to winning. But no, her girls were at the top of the leaderboard, even when she seemed to take a soft, almost motherly role. I actually wished she was my coach at one point when she gave a gentle hug to a girl who fell off the beam twice during her routine.
What’s her picture doing here? I don’t have time to mull it over now. The guys are bound to check my room to see if I’m up there, so I need to move fast before they realize I’m gone. For some reason, though, instead of returning the photo to the drawer, I cram it into my back pocket, then turn to the windows to test them.
And when one of them moves, I have to bite back a shout of sheer elation. Instead of announcing my excitement, I ease the window up when what I really want to do is fling it open. I only have to be careful a few moments longer, then I can run.
The drop to the mulched bed below the window is an easy one, and I waste no time once my feet are on the ground. I won’t make the mistake of going to the driveway this time. Sheer desperation sends me running through the woods surrounding the house. They open up onto another property. I know they do. Even if I get caught trespassing, it wouldn’t matter. I just need help.
I can see another house through the trees after only running for a minute or so. There’s a woman out there, weeding in a garden. I see her sun hat from here. Hope floods me, and I have to hold back tears of gratitude before I even reach the property line. How will I get them to believe me? I have no idea, but I have to try. And if they don’t, I’ll keep going. I’ll run all the way to the police station if I have to.
I don’t need to. I don’t get the chance. An arm closes around my waist, and a hand slaps over my mouth before I can scream. She’s there. I see her. All I have to do is scream to get her attention and beg for help. It’s too late. She might as well be a million miles away.
Because Nix caught me. Nix is holding me, breathing hard in my ear. “What do you think you’re doing?” he pants. “You’re going to end up getting yourself killed.” My heart sinks, and my tears roll over the back of his hand as he hauls me off my feet and begins carrying me back to the house. Colt is waiting for us at the edge of the tree line, arms folded, brows drawn together in a scowl. I kick out with my feet, drive my fists and elbows and anything else I can manage into Nix’s body, but it makes no difference.
I’m not getting away. After this, I doubt I’ll ever have another chance.
CHAPTER 30
“Here we are, trying to be nice to you, and this is what you do?” Colt slams the front door shut and locks it before Nix finally sets me back on my feet. I whirl around, furious, my breaths coming in big, heaving sobs.
“Nice?” I scream, and that feels good. Hearing my voice echoing, seeing the way their eyes widen in surprise. Like they expected me to be this meek little thing, begging for the slightest scraps of kindness. They didn’t expect me to come back swinging.
“Well, yeah,” Colt finally responds once he shakes off his surprise. “What did you think today was about? We told you—”
“That’s not being nice. That’s just basic decency, you asshole,” I bark at him. Nix snorts, and I whirl on him next. “Sorry if I’m not falling on my knees and thanking you for your generosity, but nothing about treating me like a human being is generous. Why won’t you just let me go?”
