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That Buck didn’t intend for me to make it out alive seemed clear.
I struggled even harder against my bindings, rocking the chair back and forth on the plywood floor of the shed.
I stopped just before I knocked the chair all the way over. Fat tears sprang out of my eyes even as I was furious at them. Now was no time for crying. I had to get us the hell out of here while Buck was gone.
I had no delusions about the Winstons actually paying ransom for Jeremiah or me. I’d just wanted to get Buck the hell out of here, to stall for time so I could try to escape or for someone else to find us.
The more I tried to wriggle free, though, the more helpless the situation felt. It wasn’t as if I had something sharp like they did in the movies to cut the tape with. The more I twisted against it, the more the tape bunched up and became even more ropelike. Goddamned duct tape. I’d seen specials where people built boats out of this crap. It was impenetrable.
Oh God, oh God, what if I couldn’t get free? What if all of this had been for nothing? I’d refused to let myself think about it, but now it seemed more and more certain that Buck would drop off the Winstons, then come back and enjoy finishing off every revenge fantasy he’d cooked up over the years.
My breaths became short, huffing too fast out of my nose since my mouth was covered and I jerked in my chair, rocking it but not caring, too panicked in my need to get free. I had to get out of here. I had to get free and go for help, I had to—
Oh shit!
I’d rocked the chair too hard and I’d tipped it just like I was afraid of and then I was falling, falling over sideways, right toward Jeremiah—
I crashed into the floor with a jolting, “Oof.” And landed half on top of Jeremiah in the small space.
Not that he even twitched, he was still knocked out cold. And unlike in the movies, my wooden chair hadn’t shattered on impact or anything helpful like that. Nope, I was still just as trapped, but now I was sideways on the floor, my head on Jeremiah’s chest.
I bowed my head into his warmth as his huge chest moved up and down rhythmically in his unnatural sleep.
And unable to do anything else, I let the tears flow.
Chapter Twenty
JEREMIAH
No. Fuck no. I couldn’t be back here. I’d escaped. I’d escaped and gotten me and Reece as fucking far away from here as quickly as humanly possible.
So why couldn’t I move?
I heard her voice, their voices, in my head. Always in my head. I was blindfolded on the bed. She’d wanted it that way and though I’d been uncomfortable with the idea, I’d agreed.
It was just supposed to be one night.
What was one stupid night of my life compared to me and Reece’s future? It was no contest. Reece had been at death’s door when I dropped him off at the shelter earlier tonight. They’d only had space for one more so I pushed him inside and ran.
And then hit the streets the way so many of our peers did.
Enough. It was all fucking enough. Me and Reece had gone to the streets to escape the foster system, but we’d turned eighteen four months ago. It was time to get us the fuck outta here.
But to do that, we needed money. And more than we’d get from a good Saturday juggling or picking pockets at the park.
My jaw flexed as I sorted through possibilities.
The solution was obvious.
If I was honest with myself, I always knew it would come down to this. A shudder went through my body the more I thought about it. Then I hiked up my backpack and held my head high. I wasn’t going to sit here and wallow in my sad little life like a damn baby.
I lifted an arm over my head in a futile attempt to protect myself from the rain and then started jogging in the direction of Polk Street.
The jog didn’t do much to warm me up since all my clothes were soaked through. I saw a few other figures dotted up and down the street when I got to Polk. They all stood on the sidewalk near the curb.
Hawking their wares.
Their bodies.
