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“I’ll be back. Don’t you worry. I'm done with you yet. Not by a long shot.”
A final press of his mouth against mine, a hateful weight against my lips as I struggled feebly. He squeezed my throat tighter. My vision began to checkerboard. Teagan's head cocked to the side and he watched me in fascination, squeezing my throat ever tighter until I was on the brink of passing out again, only then releasing me.
“Don’t go anywhere, yeah?”
It was delivered with such nonchalance that I fought back a hysterical laugh, even as I gasped for air. I tried to muster my strength to bite back a stinging retort, but the door was already shutting, and he was gone.
I was alone.
For several long minutes, I simply stared at the door. Then the panic rose again, sickly sweet and crushingly devastating. I sobbed, struggling mindlessly against the restraints once again as I reeled in horror over what had already been done and what had been promised.
Blackness was starting to close in again. My heart raced impossibly fast as I pulled uselessly against the cuffs. Teagan's scent, his touch consumed me, and I flailed against my restraints as I started to give in to the panic.
No! Calm down. I have to calm down. This isn’t helping. Connor’s coming for me, I have to stay strong. Connor—just think about Connor.
Stormy ocean eyes, bright and shining with depthless love for me. The soft curl of his mouth as he smiled, my name sweet on his lips. I could almost hear it. His hands, so strong yet so gentle, tenderly cradling my face as he smoothed away my tears.
Shh…it’s going to be okay, love. I’m coming. You’ve been so brave and so strong. I know you’re tired but you have to fight. You just have to hold on, just a little bit longer. I’m coming.
Connor. I heard his voice as clear as if he were standing right there in the room with me. It filled me with warmth, with hope, and gradually I felt my body relax and the shaking subside.
Connor was coming for me, for better or worse, and I had to stay strong. I had to survive.
I closed my eyes, taking several deep breaths to clear my head. The panic was still there, but it had been reduced to a white noise in the background. I needed to think. I needed to get free.
For the first time since waking up, I looked around the room. I was in a basement with tiny windows that were too small for a person fitted close to the ceiling and patched drywall on all four sides. A door. A table, and on it what looked like a fifth of whiskey. The one Teag had been drinking. The remains of the ruined chair. My clothes, thrown haphazardly in the corner.
So, in essence, not much.
If I wanted to free myself, I was going to have to get creative.
I'd read in books and seen in movies how the hero could pick handcuffs with a bobby pin or shim, but I didn't have either of those. I stared at the cuffs for a long time, observing how they sat on my bruised wrists. They were rather loose, especially the left one. I looked at the bruises and the torn skin, visualized the musculature and tendons and bone underneath. I had a vague idea of what I could do, but the idea of it made me sick to my stomach.
I have to fight.
Connor's voice was in my ear.
Be strong for me CASSIDY, I'm coming.
My stomach clenched as I rotated my body, sitting up as much as I could so one hand was in front of me and one behind. I didn't hesitate. Teagan could come back at any second, and I needed to be quick about this before I lost my nerve.
I planted my feet against the headboard, one on either side of my wrist, and yanked as hard as I could.
I heard a sharp pop, and my hand slipped free of the cuff with a sickening squelch.
The momentum propelled me off the bed. I tumbled to the floor with my right arm awkwardly pinned above me. I didn't dare look down at my left wrist. It felt like the entire thing had been stomped on, but I knew that was just the shock of it. The real pain would come later.
I laughed, the sound high and breathless. Blood immediately started to drizzle onto the floor between my legs as I wobbled to my feet, but I didn’t stop to survey the damage. I didn’t have time, and it didn’t matter anyway. Adrenaline surging, I scooted to the side of the bed, shouldering the bedframe up so I could slip the end of the cuff securing my other hand off the foot of the bed.
Free. I was free.
Sort of.
Limping to the corner, I tugged on my clothes, a fumbling process with only one good hand. Then I tried the door, not surprised when I found it locked.
The pain in my hand was starting to get worse, flaring with each heartbeat. I snuck a look at my hand and gagged, immediately wishing I hadn’t. It was misshapen, clearly broken and bleeding freely from where the cuffs had peeled back my skin to the bone. Not immediately life threatening, but I was already weakened and couldn’t afford to lose any more blood.
Stop the bleeding. Bind it up, then find a weapon. He’s coming back.
