Chapter Twenty-Six
Jet
Plastic burns bite the inside of the wrists where the zip ties cut into flesh.
The ties looped around a corroded pipe in the ceiling, one of those old plumbing runs, slick with condensation and varnish flakes.
My feet dangle inches above a concrete floor, stained dark.
Light leaks beneath the door, and I imagine what they are going to do to me.
Last time, terror did the thinking for me. Heart jack hammering. Breath shallow as a trapped bird. Not tonight. Never again.
Lessons learned the hard way hum along my nerves. I listen to what’s happening outside the door, wait for my moment to act, and then I’ll move like a blade when the time comes.
Voices in the next room, Spanish, clipped and sounding mean. One man laughs.
They think they own what’s left of me. They’re wrong.
Blood slicks the plastic and makes the tie slide. The thing about thick zip ties, they can cut but they also loosen once the edge finds its way out. My skin tears. Pain blooms like hot metal, but I don’t call out.
My bare feet hit the concrete. Muscles scream, but I stay upright. Searching in the dark, I find a chair. The chair feels cheap, so I test its weight. It’s heavy enough.
Breathing becomes a tool. Breathe in for three, out for four. Panic will make me make a mistake. No panic. Not tonight. Not again.
The door opens with a dull thud, bouncing off the other wall. A shadow fills the frame. One man, with a gun already moving in his hand. I swing hard. The chair cracks across flesh and bone, shattering into pieces. He doubles, the gun jerks free and clatters to the floor.
He will not hurt me. No one is ever going to hurt me again.
Bending, I pick up a chair leg and use it like a stake. It slams into ribs and sternum, wood splinters dig into my hand. He reaches for me, but I shove him backward with all my might.
The man trips and falls, and I scramble for the gun. Picking it up, I train it on the man on the floor.
The first shot cracks the room open. The sound punches ears, bone-deep. The man’s eyes blown wide in surprise, mouth making an animal noise. The second round rips the silence in two. He doesn’t move or make anymore noise.
My fingers tremble, my breathing is ragged.
The smell of gunpowder mixes with copper. My hands tremble, but the gun stays level as my chest heaves. No tears. No screams. Just my heartbeat hammering in my ears.
Footsteps outside. Louder this time. Boots, not sneakers.
“Jet!” Justice’s voice cuts through the haze.
With a sigh, I let the gun drop to my side. Shoulders sag. The steel in my spine gives way for a breath.
He rushes in, eyes wild, taking in the scene. The body. The blood.
And finally, his eyes land on me.
His hands find my shoulders. “You okay?”
A nod. Not sure if it’s true.
“He was going to—” The words catch in my throat. “I stopped him.”
Justice’s voice drops, gravel and relief tangled together. “Damn right you did.”
The weapon slips from my grasp, landing with a dull thud. Every muscle shakes, but I’m standing.
Still breathing. Still here.
Not the same woman they took.
Not anymore.