Chapter 10 Skylar #2
Instead of wallowing in self-pity, instead of letting my body and these assholes here win, I straighten my spine.
Then, I use my brain, my most valuable organ, and think.
Forget Knox. Forget about Bronwyn’s wounds and how Easton will faint if they don’t help him lie down soon.
They all betrayed me.
I have to save myself.
Have to get to the door. It’s right there. Ten steps at most.
I’ll run out of here, and then I won’t stop running.
Twenty miles, fifty miles, a million miles.
When I get somewhere safe, I’ll send the FBI back here for Bronwyn’s corpse.
She’s made it clear she wants me gone, and now that I’ve let it sink in, maybe I’m fine with her death too.
Our parents, however, love her. They always told her the same thing—if they hadn’t cared, they wouldn’t have bothered with lecturing her.
They’ll need closure.
I’ll tell them where they can find her body. That’s the most I can do for them. I won’t sacrifice myself so she can live.
For that to happen, I need to get out of here. But I can’t run with Knox holding me tight.
Since I can’t overpower him, I trick him like he did me. Use my body against him.
Bringing my lips to his arm, I kiss him gently.
It works, and it works fast. Stunned, Knox flexes his hand, releasing me from his grip.
I bolt toward the door, my pulse roaring in my ears. No tiptoeing across creaking boards. No looking back.
I just run.
The moment I burst outside, the humidity sticks to my skin, clogging my lungs.
I’ll die before I let it slow me down.
A few seconds later, Knox’s growl rips through the night. His heavy footsteps pound after me.
He’s close.
In the distance, Jett whistles. “Go get her, Bro.”
Knox doesn’t answer. He stomps and stomps.
He’s coming.
I have to outsmart him. He’d expect me to go in a straight line. Despite my having a few seconds’ advantage over him, he’ll catch up with me in no time.
The only thing left to do is hide behind the museum’s displays until he gives up.
I sprint by the first house, dart left, right, until I’m behind the exhibits, weaving out of sight.
“Skylar.” His calling is rugged. Harsh.
Hot.
I won’t fall for it. Never again.
He isn’t worth it. Not his hazel eyes, not his good girl.
I’m going to survive this, dammit.
Hopefully, he’s out of shape and trying to catch his breath.
Not dead, though. I don’t want Knox dead.
That’s almost as disturbing as the fact that I’m stuck in the Colberts’ version of hell.
Years of therapy will help me work through this. When I’m home.
By the time I make it to the farthest display from the family homes, my lungs are burning. My calves start cramping.
I have a hand on my chest while I sneak a glance at the main path to look for Knox.
No sign of him.
He isn’t here, and yet I’m not alone. A large hand curls around my arm. Another one clamps my mouth shut.
“Shh,” a man whispers while I scream into his palm. I wriggle with everything I have, to no avail. His hand is wrinkled with age. That doesn’t stop him from holding me down effortlessly. “They’ll hear you. I’m here to help.”
I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone.
That conviction wavers when I attempt to turn around and look at him, when he actually lets me. His grip on me loosens, but his hand is still on my mouth. Not forcefully; it’s more like a plea. One he articulates when he repeats, “Shh.”
His brown eyes look down at me from above. In many ways, they remind me of Knox’s, except they lack the green, gorgeous specks.
Though they aren’t Knox’s hazel, they still disarm me.
“I don’t condone what they’re doing over there.
Have hated it since the start,” the older man mutters.
His thick, white hair sticks to his sweat-soaked forehead.
“Today, I’ve had it. I’m going to die soon anyway, and what better way to go than to amend my sins?
I already called the cops. They should be here within the next thirty minutes. ”
I blink up at him, watching him closely.
His eyes seem honest enough. His expression open.
Then he lets go of my mouth.
“What do you want?” I breathe.
“Penance. Let an old man have his dying wish.” He shrugs. “What do you say?”
A voice inside me rebels against giving in to him. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to die anytime soon.
Still, this doesn’t feel like another lie.
“Okay, I believe you.”
“Good.” He pats my shoulder warmly. Lovingly, even.
My trust in him is shaky, but it’s there.
That’s why, when he laces his fingers with mine, I don’t flinch. I allow him that touch.
“This way. I’ll hide you over there.”
We walk together in the dark. Lights shine in the windows of the large farmhouse. Empty windows with no one looking out of them.
I hear my twin scream, “We’ll pay! I swear to God, we will.”
And then there’s that feeling of being watched. It returns stronger than ever before.
But…that’s strange. I can’t hear Knox anymore. The rest of the family is nowhere to be found.
“We’ll be at the storm shelter in no time,” he reassures me, boots grinding through the dirt. “No time at all. It’s hidden out here, camouflaged with hay.” Then his foot hits something, and he grins. “Ah. There it is.”
Before he can pry the door open, a shadow cuts across from the left.
Knox.
Tall. Dark. Eyes that promise to devour me and destroy me in the same breath.
A shiver skitters down my spine.
He betrayed me. I should hate him.
But my traitorous body aches for this masked monster. My kidnapper.
The monster who seethes at the older man, saying, “Where the fuck do you think you’re taking her? I told you she’s mine to kill, not anyone else’s. Let me have her.”