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Consequences be damned.
My head is throbbing and the bruises on my face are going to be ugly tomorrow. Blood trickles from my nose from the last dizzying punch I received. I’m alive, though, and Logan is gone.
I survived his latest attack—or punishment as he likes to call it—but I still don’t know how my sisters are faring. And Kristen? Fuck. I wish she wouldn’t have tried to stick up for me. The punch he slammed against her cheek completely knocked her out. Thankfully, her breathing is even. She’s still with me.
Rope digs into my wrists, cutting the flesh anytime I attempt to move. Assisting Kristen is out of the question. Sneaking out to save my sisters is also not going to happen. We’re all well and truly fucked.
On my knees, I shuffle over to Kristen and attempt to see her in the dimly lit tent. The last thing I saw, though blurry, of Logan before he left was his rage-filled expression as he wailed his fist into Kristen’s face.
I hate him with everything in me.
Leaning in, I again make sure she’s breathing. Since she’s not crying or trying to speak to me, it’s clear she’s asleep. There’s nothing I can do for her. All I can do is hope that when Logan comes back, he’ll no longer be angry. Maybe he’ll leave us alone tonight.
Walking on my knees again, I make my way back over to the zipper of the tent, straining to listen for any sounds. I’m clearly a masochist because if I hear my sisters screaming or fending off an attack, I’m unable to do any-fucking-thing about it.
All I hear are cheerful hollers and laughter in the distance. The monsters are celebrating their tyranny. Fury, hot and uncontrollable, swells up inside me. If only I could break through these ropes with just my anger. I attempt to do just that and the burn across my flesh is a reminder that it’s not going to work.
I’m about to flop down on a sleeping bag, giving in to my despair, when a shadow creeps closer, blotting out the light from the campfire.
Logan.
Fuck.
I scramble back on my knees until I’m away from the opening, heart thundering in my chest. Is he back to beat on us some more? Fear chases away my anger, leaving me to tremble in anticipation.
Ziiiip.
The shadowy figure enters the tent and zips it back up behind them. I stay unmoving, bracing myself for the impending attack.
“Ronan?”
Holy shit.
Relief explodes through me as I realize the soft voice belongs to Raegan. It’s quickly snuffed out with worry over her being here. If Logan catches her…
“Rae,” I hiss. “What are you doing here?”
She approaches and then I feel her hands on my shoulders. I’m tugged against her as she hugs me. As dangerous is this is, I can’t help but bury my nose against her neck, inhaling her familiar scent. God, I’ve missed my sister so fucking much.
“Are you tied up?” she whispers. “Hold on. I can help.”
Her warm, comforting arms leave me as she shuffles behind me. I groan with every tug as she attempts to untie me. It fucking hurts.
“I can’t see,” she grumbles, “and they’re tied so tight. Can you feel your fingers?”
“Barely,” I croak out. “I don’t think we can get through them without a knife.”
She sighs in frustration before settling in front of me again. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
Fingertips brush over my face, gently dancing over my bruises. When she touches the drying blood under my nose, she sucks in a breath.
“I’m going to clean you up, Ro,” she says, voice cracking with emotion. “I hate these people. They’re sick.”
She pulls back and then she’s using something—her shirt maybe—that’s slightly wet, probably from her mouth, carefully cleaning the blood away. Once it’s taken care of, her face nears mine. I can feel her warm breath tickling me.
“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
Leaning forward, I rest my forehead to hers. “None of this is your fault, Rae. It’s mine for not being able to protect you all. I’m so fucking useless.”
