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I tapped a saved video, my eyes burning from the smoke, throat burning, and watched Drake slither up to my bed at Briar Hall, hunching over my sleeping form in the dark.
My stomach turned, watching him reach down between his legs, his jerky movements giving away what he was doing under the cover of darkness. His body shuddered, and I watched, gagging, as he carefully touched his fingers to my lips, rubbing his seed there. Claiming me.
I exited the feeds, committing their locations to memory so we could take care of each and every single one of them when I got away from here, but a folder labeled simply ‘Angels’ on the desktop caught my attention.
I clicked it, knowing I was running out of time as the smoke thickened and the reflection of the fire on the monitor’s surface brightened at my back.
Photos filled the screen, little snapshots of dead girls.
Each one more gruesome than the last.
All of them strangled to death.
The bruising on their necks clear in each overexposed frame.
They were his trophies, I realized, and the floor shifted beneath me when I realized something else. A similar quality between them all. Long, dark hair. Light colored eyes. Full lips. A familiar curve to their facial structure.
They all looked… like me.
I squinted through the burn in my eyes, coughing uncontrollably as I scanned the room quickly for something I could use, finding the long tweezers Drake had used to dig the bullet out of his arm. I grabbed them and a swath of fresh gauze in my fist and ran to the door, heaving it open to stumble out into the hall. The fresh gust of air drawing the fire to new heights, filling the corridor with smoke.
My watery eyes searched the long hall, finding more than a few doors lining the walls in either direction. Many not unlike the one I just exited. But there were more still that were the other kind. The kind like the one in the first room I wound up in.
Solid steel, with small openable slots near the bottom to push through food.
I paused only long enough to wrap the gauze around my burned arm, but finally allowing myself to look at it, I found I couldn’t.
The skin from my wrist up the underside of my forearm was just…gone. Open and raw, a mosaic of colors that didn’t belong. Black and pink and red and seeping yellow.
Not a fucking chance I was touching that.
I dry heaved, but managed to choke down the urge to vomit, looking away.
A blinking red light down the hall drew my eye and I stared into the lens of a camera there, knowing somewhere, on the other end of it, Drake was alerted to my escape. That he was probably watching me right now.
How long would it take him to get back from wherever he went? Could he remotely engage some kind of lock? Shit.
It didn’t matter, I wasn’t going to be here when he got back. No fucking way. I’d let the whole place burn and walk through the ashes to get free if I had to, mortality be damned. I’d become somethingelse,somethingmoreto make sure this bastard got what he deserved in the end.
The sound of glass shattering from the heat in the room I left spurred me into action, and I spared only one glance back at the tongues of flame licking from beneath the door before smiling wide for the camera and taking off down the hall. My legs protested the sudden movement, but I pushed them towork.
We were built for this.
We were madeto run.
And this time, he wouldn’t catch me.
The door at the end of the hall was locked, but beyond it, through a small rectangular window, I could see a set of dirty stairs leading up. Out.
I leaned back and threw the force of my body into the door, but it didn’t budge, and the aches in my body intensified to the point of nearly losing consciousness. The tweezers clattered to the floor, and I rushed to pick them back up, my panic-addled mind assessing the lock.
Old school. A key lock with a wide chamber.
I bent the tweezers back over my knee, prying them back and forth until they snapped into two pieces, each with a sharp, pointed end, and bent to my knees.
Picking locks was never my forte. It was Dad’s specialty. Today, it was going to have to be mine.
