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It’s stupid. I have no shoes on, no car keys, no purse. But I can’t help it. I might never get this chance again. I turn the knob, and when the door opens, I throw caution to the wind and pull it wide. The second it swings open, an alarm sounds, forcing me into gear.
I sprint outside as if my life depends on it. Who knows? Maybe it does. I ignore the pain in my feet and just flat-out run, having no idea where I’m going.It’s far darker than I anticipated it would be, and with no streetlights out here to guide my way, it isn’t long before I trip and land hard on my hands and knees. I bite back a scream as something cuts into my palm before stumbling to my feet and taking off again.
I barely make it a few steps before I’m tackled to the ground, my head hitting something with a thunk. Everything spins, and I hear yelling, but the roaring in my head makes it impossible for me to make out who it is. Still, I fight against the body pinning me to the ground. Suddenly, the weight holding me down is gone, and I suck in a deep breath to scream, but it barely comes out as a whimper as my head throbs in time with the pain in my hand.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” a voice snarls before I’m scooped up and held tightly in someone’s arms.
When I realize I’m being carried back to the very place I ran from, I start fighting again. But his hold tightens, making it impossible for me to break free.
“You stupid woman,” he snaps at me, my brain finally recognizing the voice now that it’s shifting out of escape mode. I should have figured it was Slade all along, given how hard he tackled me to the ground.
“Get the first aid kit,” he says, but this time he’s obviously not talking to me.
As he carries me through the door and into the living area, I wince as the brightly lit room sends a bolt of pain through my brain. He falters for a second, and I bury my head under his chin, trying to shield myself from the light. Hearing footsteps, I crack open my eyes and turn my head to see Jagger with what I’m guessing is the first aid kit in his hands.
“Sit her on the island,” he tells Slade, who walks me into the kitchen and does just that. As soon as he lets go of me, he steps back, and I move to jump off the counter.
Sensing what I’m about to do, he leans forward, his angry expression making me swallow hard. “If you move, I’ll spank your ass so hard that you won’t be able to take a single step without feeling it.”
Shocked by his words, I freeze.
When he moves aside to let Jagger in, I grip the edge of the island, crying out when I put too much pressure on my injured hand. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to hold back my tears at the shooting pain. I’m not going to lie, I’m a big old baby when it comes to pain.
Just stubbing my toe can leave me curled up in a ball. Badass, I’m not, but that doesn’t make me a coward. I don’t regret taking the chance to escape. It’s not in my nature to give up without at least trying—and usually failing—first. Maybe this will be the time I learn my lesson.
“Open your eyes, Astrid. Let me look,” Jagger asks me.
Reluctantly, I open them, and he softens when he sees the tears I’m trying to keep at bay.
“You banged your head pretty hard.”
“Sure, we can call it that, or we can call it having my face smashed into the ground by Mr. Happy over there. I guess it’s kinda the same thing.”
“You shouldn’t have run,” Slade grumbles.
“You knew I would,” I reply quietly. “How could I not?”
“We said we wouldn’t hurt you,” Jagger reminds me.
“And yet here we are.”
That shuts Jagger up, but not Slade. He snorts, grabbing a square of gauze from the first aid kit, and then lifts my hand before pressing it against my bleeding palm.
“You tripped.”
“Riiight. Just like when a woman with a black eye claims she tripped.”
He growls at me and pushes harder on the gauze, making me yelp, proving my point.
“Slade,” Jagger snaps.
Slade lets go and steps back, his expression an odd one. He looks almost remorseful, but that can’t be right, can it? “Why run? You knew you wouldn’t get far, and now look at you.”
“Why wouldn’t I run? I’m being kept against my will. It’s a little early in my captivity to be expecting Stockholm syndrome from me.”
Jagger pauses before huffing out a laugh. “I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth next.”
“Yeah, well, since I’m not allowed to leave, I’m sure I’ll be a fountain of entertainment for you.”
