Chapter Thirty-Nine
June
The house doesn’t have nearby neighbors.
That’s what I learn while attempting to quietly unlock the cuffs.
I’ve heard a handful of cars drive by but no honking.
There was a dog barking at one point, but it was far away.
Based on the cracked, discolored, and shitty door and window frames, the house is old and hasn’t been taken care of.
It’s under construction now, either because a new owner is flipping it or because the current owner decided to give it a lift.
McCoy must’ve bolted the chair to the ground. Or maybe this house is used by all the dirty cops to get confessions out of the criminals they can’t muster enough evidence against.
I used to be better at unlocking cuffs, but I haven’t practiced in a while, and with my arms at such an odd angle, it takes a while to even get the micro-clip key positioned the right way.
Finally, the key slides in, and I twist and jiggle until it clicks.
Next, I carefully shim the cuffs and loosen them enough to slide my hands free without accidentally tightening them.
When they fall open, I let out a puff of air in relief and pull my arms away from behind my back, leaving the cuffs hooked on a finger so they don’t clatter to the floor.
I drop them into my lap and inspect my wrists, noticing where the skin has been rubbed raw and blood seeps from small cuts.
The rage turns cold and murderous, forming ice around my muscles.
Quickly, I lean forward and start working the knots around my feet free.
Unfortunately, they’re well done, and I don’t have any of my knives.
Plus, the change of gravity to my broken nose threatens to restart the bleeding that only recently stopped.
I reach up, unclip an earring, and try using the sharpened point to help cut away at the thick ropes.
It’s slow work. Too slow. Abandoning the attempt at cutting them, I focus on the knot itself, following the loops to try and learn which knot he used. But my brain is still thundering from the concussion, and McCoy clearly knows what he’s doing.
My fingers are aching, and one of the nails has broken off by the time I get one leg free. I’m so focused on the other one that I don’t hear footsteps until it’s too late.
“Clever one, aren’t you?”
“Shit,” I whisper, allowing one longing glance at the half-untied knot before I sit up and turn to McCoy.
Before I can face him fully, his hands are on my shoulders, roughly dragging me back.
I fight against him, even trying to kick with the single freed foot, but he has more strength right now and a much better position.
I’m pressed against the chair, and he’s moving his hold down my arms to my wrists.
“No!” I shout, throwing my head back. There’s a satisfying thud followed by a shout of pain.
The impact magnifies my already throbbing headache, but I ignore that in favor of standing up and turning to place the chair between me and the groaning detective.
The movement forces my foot to twist at an odd angle, but the ropes are at least loose enough to allow an inch of space.
Fresh tears blur my vision, but I see McCoy wiping blood from his mouth where my headbutt forced a tooth through his lips. With no time to revel in the small victory, I drop to my knee and attack the knot once more.
“You’re not going anywhere!” the detective shouts, lunging for me. I slam a palm up, aiming for his throat, but he dodges just in time so the hit lands on his shoulder. He stumbles but manages to throw his arms around me and tackle me to the floor.
Before I got my leg free.
The strength and speed at which he pulls me down yanks my ankle away from the chair.
Agony. Blistering pain slams into me, erupting from my foot. For a moment, all I see is white and black stars obscuring my vision. I scream, lungs emptying and stomach twisting from the pain.
Then McCoy is on top of me, hands going around my throat.
I buck, throw my fists at him, attempting to twist out of his hold.
He doesn’t budge. His hands tighten, and any second now, my windpipe is going to collapse under the pressure. I drop my arms, searching for anything to grab hold of.
My fingers brush against something coarse. I don’t think. I just grab the object, lift it, and see the rope that had tied my foot to the chair. I wrap it around McCoy’s neck and throw all my remaining strength into yanking the noose.
He instantly lets go of my throat to claw at the rope.
I suck in a breath, use the moment of his distraction to twist out from under him, and land on my back perpendicular to the chair.
My foot is still tied, but the knot is so much looser now that moving is easier.
Yanking harder on the rope, I grit my teeth and pull my shoulders in, making myself a smaller target.
McCoy decides trying to fight me off is pointless, and he instead attempts to pull free one of the weapons I’m sure he has stashed on his person. For an extra hold, I lift my free leg and wrap it around his waist, securing him against me so he has even less room to fight.
He manages to get a knife free and blindly stabs at my leg. I don’t move it fast enough to avoid the slice on my thigh. I hiss against the pain but don’t relent my hold on the rope.
McCoy goes to stab again, this time aiming behind him for my side, and I manage to twist away from it just barely, a new wave of nausea flushing through me at the pain from my probably broken ankle.
He’s losing strength, so his next attempt is pathetic. A few more moments and he’ll pass out. Then I could either keep strangling until he’s dead, or I could stop long enough to tie him to the chair and have a little fun of my own.
I don’t get the chance to decide because the next moment, there’s a loud crash from somewhere in the house.
It startles me enough that I slacken my hold the barest amount.
It’s enough for McCoy to suck in a tiny bit of air though, and his renewed consciousness goes fully into a desperate attempt to free himself.
He presses back on me, crushing his weight against my body, and lifts the knife, aiming for my arms this time.
The sound of footsteps makes him pause, then several bodies spill into the room. I blink, recognizing everyone but unable to process who they are.
Until Theo.
Theo.
Gun extended, eyes wide and wild, dark hair a mess.
He finds me on the floor with a detective on top of me, a flickering fire of rage so like mine reflected in his expression.
We have a quick, silent conversation, and he nods.
I let go of the rope, flatten against the floor, and push against McCoy’s back. He instinctively sits up in an effort to free himself from the danger.
As soon as he’s no longer against me, an ear-splitting BANG fills the room as Theo pulls the trigger.
Red mist replaces the air above me where McCoy’s head had been a second earlier. The explosion sends blood, bits of skull, brain, and grey matter flying in every direction. It lands on the chair, the floor, the walls, and me.
I shove the detective’s lifeless body away. Then someone, James, I think, pulls him off. I attempt to sit up, but gag and sway.
Theo is at my side before I hit the floor. He cradles me against his chest as someone else starts cutting the rope away from my ankle.
“You’re okay,” Theo says. Words leave his lips in a stream, more a mantra to himself than to me. “I got you. Fuck. You’re okay, little reaper. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”
I don’t even realize I’m crying until he gently pulls my head away from his chest and wipes the tears from my cheeks. Even more shocking are the tears in Theo’s eyes. His face is pale, and there’s a sheen of sweat beading on his brow.
“I’m so fucking sorry.”
I shake my head. “You found me.” The words are cracked and broken and make more tears fall free.
He tugs me back against him for a tighter hug. “Always. I will always find you.”
My chest aches as I cling to him. For a moment, I don’t feel all the pain throughout my body. I only feel him, holding me, comforting me.
The sole thing that could tear my attention away from him is the voice of someone I never would’ve expected at a scene like this.
“June!”
My head whips up and I look around, wondering if I’m imagining things.
I’m not. That’s Sadie shoving past Kip. She drops to her knees next to me, and her hands hover in the air for a moment while she tries to decide where to put them.
“Sadie?” I croak.
She decides to wrap her arms around my shoulders despite the blood coating my body. She’s sobbing too, and only the shock of seeing her here makes me hesitate before I return the hug.
I meet Theo’s eyes over her shoulders. He grimaces slightly and mouths, “ Explain later. ”
That’s totally fine with me. Because right now, all I want is to hold the people I love most in this world and get out of this shithole house. Then maybe take a bath and get some strong painkillers.
“We need to go,” someone says. “I’ve already called Ace.”
“Where are you hurt?” the gentle question comes from Theo.
I let go of Sadie and turn back to him, blinking as I consider the question. “Nose, ankle, and thigh,” I say. Then, “And I think I have a concussion.”
Theo takes me in, from the top of my head down to my feet. “I’m going to pick you up.”
I nod, and he reaches out, sliding an arm under my knees and another behind my back. I hiss as he lifts me, an ache dropping to my throbbing ankle.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers.
I manage a nod before dropping my head to his chest. The sound of his heartbeat and the heat of his body is hypnotic. As he moves, the last few hours seem to descend on me all at once, and my eyes are too heavy to keep open.
I lose consciousness to the sound of Theo promising me everything is going to be okay.