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What did this man want? Was he going to rape me? Terror overwhelmed me.
My gun was under the bed, attached to the metal frame for easy access. I knew how to shoot. Living out here, it had been one of the first things my father had taught me. Wolves and bears tended to stay away from obviously inhabited areas, but if food was scarce, it wasn’t unheard of for them to get close. My father had known I needed to defend myself when I was out in the forest alone.
If my hands had been free, I’d have reached beneath the bed and shot the son of a bitch between the eyes, but, while he had me pinned, I was defenceless.
I deeply regretted not telling my father about spotting the stranger earlier that day. What the hell had I been thinking? My father kept me close because he wanted to protect me. He knew what a dangerous world it was out there, and I’d repaid him by putting us in danger. What if he was already dead? This man might have snuck in here and shot him first and then come for me. No, I was sure I’d have woken at a gunshot, unless he’d killed him by hand?
“Calm down,” the man growled. “Chill the fuck out. I don’t want to have to shoot you.”
He had an English accent. Was this to do with the trip my father and his men had made to London a couple of months ago? Some of the money we printed was shipped to London, I knew that much. There had been some issues around the quality of the bank notes that had been received, and that was part of the reason my father had been so obsessed with me checking and rechecking the quality of our printing recently. I thought that had all been dealt with, though. My father returned from that trip a couple of men down, but he’d assured me everything had gone to plan.
The presence of this English man in my bedroom in the middle of the night said otherwise.
Realising my struggles weren’t getting me anywhere, I stopped. If he let go of my wrists, I could reach beneath my bed and grab the gun. But he’d only let go if he thought I wasn’t going to fight.
I was breathing hard, the hot air from my lungs dampening the skin of his fingers.
“Good girl,” he said. “Don’t make this any harder on yourself than it needs to be.”
He released my wrists, and I reached for the gun, but I was too far over to the left on the bed, the distance across the mattress now an endless expanse. I stretched, but my freedom only lasted a split second. The hand that had been holding my wrists wrapped around my throat.
I couldn’t breathe.
My eyes felt like they were going to pop from my skull. I fought to suck in a breath, but his hold on my throat tightened, compressing my windpipe so it felt like I was trying to sip oxygen through a straw. He took his hand off my mouth, but instead of it bringing me some relief, he clamped that one around my throat, too. I kicked out but was barely aware of my legs moving. I had no conscious thought about my actions. My body was simply reacting, working on the basic process of trying to stay alive.
It was failing.
Chapter Five
Leo
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GETTING OUT OF THEcompound was going to be harder than breaking in had been.
On the way in, I’d only had to worry about myself, but now I had an unconscious girl hooked over my shoulder. If she woke and started screaming, Rasmus and his men would come running.
