Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Seconds tick past in slow motion.
I turn on my bare heel and face four domineering men. Three of whom are staring daggers at me.
Travis is clenching both his fists, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
He’s the one I’m the most scared of. Something is unnerving about the man, and that’s without adding in his massive size and unforgiving features.
Travis told us he’s a photographer and was invited here to document Pierce’s life.
Still, I’m starting to think he has a darker and more sinister portfolio than those perfectly curated author headshots he talked about at dinner.
He looks excited about the challenge. It’s almost as if he’s been waiting for an opportunity to hurt a woman physically.
Ahmed at least has the grace to look conflicted.
He’s tall, but wiry. He doesn’t look like much of a fighter, and the way he’s standing makes me think that he might be the only one second-guessing the task laid before him.
The anger and fear he had written on his features just moments ago have been replaced with confusion.
I can’t let that go to waste. He’s a journalist, not a fighter.
My eyes land on David and his ridiculously cheery Hawaiian shirt.
It seems inappropriate in this situation with its mock humor.
Nothing about this is worth cheering about.
He is looking back and forth between Travis, Ahmed, and me, clearly waiting to see who makes the first move—whatever that move will be.
Like Ahmed, David looks uneasy about the prospect of murdering me.
He doesn’t seem like the type of person who would kill to survive, even if he boasted about writing some cutthroat reviews during dinner.
I can’t be sure of anything anymore.
I force myself to look at Quinn and find that he isn’t looking at me like the other three are.
Instead, he’s taken a small step towards me.
It’s almost as if he’s twisting his body towards the other men.
Just slightly. I want to believe he’s shifted to protect me, but I know it’s foolish to trust anything right now.
Not when all four of these men have been tasked with killing me.
The five of us are at a standstill, waiting with bated breath to see who will be brave enough to blink first.
Travis takes a heavy step towards me, his veins bulging menacingly on his overly muscled arms. “Don’t take this personally, Teagan,” he says with a chillingly calm voice. “But if it’s between you and the four of us, then you might as well lie down and give in to your death now.”
I instinctively take a step back, hitting the small table at the bottom of the steps.
The vase rattles behind me, but doesn’t tip over.
Good. This is precisely what I need. I wrap my hands around the thin neck of the vase, praying to whoever is listening that this stupid idea will work.
I just need a moment of distraction so I can put some distance between myself and them.
Travis lunges toward me, and I slam it into the side of his head as hard as possible. The glass vase shatters against his temple, and he falls to his knees, clutching at the side of his bloody face. “You bitch,” he moans. “I’ll kill you for this!”
Ahmed and David both reach for Travis in a poor attempt to help him.
Travis is enraged and throws them off of him before clutching his bleeding face again and sliding face-first onto the floor.
David stumbles and trips over the uneven wooden floor, falling backwards.
The back of his head hits the bars on the metal cages with a sickening crunch.
Everyone stops and stares at him as he falls to the ground with a pained moan.
Now. I need to go now.
I turn and race up the stairs behind me, praying the rest of them are too distracted with the chaos before anyone has a chance to notice me slip away.
The staircase leads to a small hallway with two closed doors, one on each side, and a small circular window between them. I can see the ocean waves and overcast sky, but nothing to indicate where I might be. We must be on the island, but we could be miles from Windermere.
“GET HER!” Travis screams from the floor below.
I hear another loud noise. Something heavy hits the floor, then everything goes silent again.
I wonder where Quinn is. I don’t remember seeing him after Travis lunged for me.
Not that I’m stupid enough to trust him.
Just because Quinn and I shared a moment last night doesn’t mean he won’t fight just as hard to make it out of this alive, same as the rest of us.
Mr. Pierce made the rules simple: them or me.
I hear heavy footsteps stomping up the stairs behind me, accompanied by heavy breathing.
Which door? Right or left?
My bare feet throb in sync with my pounding heart as I whisper a silent prayer that the door I choose is unlocked.
I throw myself at the door on the left. I enter quickly, just as Ahmed hits the top of the stairs with Quinn right on his heels.
Quinn is holding the small table over his head.
I let out a strangled scream when he brings it down on Ahmed’s head.
“Teagan!” Quinn shouts as I slam the door behind me. The door has a thick beam of wood, like something you’d find in a castle dungeon. I quickly fling it down. It fits into a metal latch on the opposite side of the door, locking me inside and Quinn out.
I lean against the door as the pounding starts. “Let me in, Teagan! We can figure this out together! I’m not going to hurt you! I swear on my own life, I won’t hurt you!”
My breathing is erratic, and my chest burns with fire as I struggle to calm myself down. This door won’t open unless I open it. Nobody can get me if I stay here.
I’m momentarily safe, but I need a plan.
Quinn pounds on the door again. “Please. I won’t hurt you.” His voice sounds as broken and betrayed as I feel. I want more than anything to believe that he’s telling the truth, but even if he is, only one of us will make it to the finish line.
And it has to be me. I have to save my friends at whatever cost.
I hear what I assume is Quinn sliding down the door and to the floor. I step away from my side as quietly as I can, wincing when the top of my foot blazes in pain. Blood pours out of it at an alarming rate. I must have cut it on a shard of glass after I hit Travis with the vase.
I’ve basically left a trail of breadcrumbs right to me.
If I have any chance of hiding from the rest of them, I need to staunch the bleeding.
Looking around the room, I see I’m in a small bedroom.
There’s another window sitting above an old wooden dresser on the wall across from me, with a twin-size bed next to it.
Dust clings to every inch of surface here, so I don’t think anyone has stayed here in some time, wherever this is.
I start opening the drawers at random, hunting for anything I can use to wrap my foot.
It looks like mainly men’s clothing, but beggars can’t be choosers.
I find a few pairs of long socks and do my best to clean the wound on my foot.
It isn’t deep, so I don’t think it’ll need stitches, but I wish I had a first-aid kit with some clean bandages and antibiotic cream.
Instead, I use one of the socks, wrap it around my foot to cover the cut, and slip on two more pairs of socks.
Once that’s handled, I pull out a pair of pants that look about five times my size, a black t-shirt, and a green and blue thick flannel.
I shed my dirty dress and put them on. The black pants are huge on me, but I pull a shoestring out of one of the discarded pairs of shoes thrown at the end of the bed and use it as a makeshift belt before putting on a pair of tan hiking boots.
Again, they are much too big, but the doubled-up socks fill in some of the space.
Now, if only I were lucky enough to find a weapon and some food in this abandoned room. I search under the bed, find a small duffel bag, and throw some extra clothing into it. One more sweep around the room tells me that there is nothing else of use in here.
A door slams loudly from the hallway, and I throw my hand over my mouth to mute the scream snaking up my throat. I need to get the hell out of here before they find a way to break the door open.
Travis’s voice slips into the room. I cease to breathe. “Where is she? Did you find her?”
“She went through there,” Quinn answers after a beat of silence.
The handle shakes viciously as Travis tries to open the room I’m in.
“That door is locked, clearly,” Quinn says, his voice oozing with arrogance. “That’s why I said she went this way. And I’m assuming she took off down the steps and ran into the forest. If she’s smart, she’ll be long gone by now.”
Steps? What is he talking about?
Travis scoffs loudly. “And what happened to Ahmed?”
“He was gone by the time I got up the stairs. He probably chased her into the forest. We need to hurry so we can help him. Nobody else needs to die if we kill her first.”
Loud, heavy footsteps pace in the hallway. I’m too scared to even breathe. I don’t know why Quinn is lying to Travis, but I can’t screw up this opportunity. He’s pretty much told me where Travis is going and how to get out of here.
“Where’s David?” Quinn asks.
Travis stops pacing and lets out a boisterous laugh. “The fool knocked himself unconscious. I tried to wake him, but it was pointless. I snapped his neck instead. One less idiot to screw things up. Now let’s go find our little princess and end this thing.”
I hear movement again; this time, it sounds like Travis’s steps are moving farther away. I finally let out a small, painful breath just as there is a quiet tap on the door. Goosebumps prick my skin as I press my ear against the wood separating us.
“There’s a broken table leg sitting in the hallway out here. Use it. And be safe. I’ll keep him away from you for as long as I can,” Quinn whispers. “Whatever you do, don’t go into the woods.”
Can I actually trust Quinn? Or is this another trick that ends up with him leading me right into my own grave?
A long, torturous half hour or so passes by with no noise from the other side of my chosen prison before I risk opening the door.
I hold my breath and tug the wooden barricade up, pausing to listen for sounds.
I hear nothing except the lull of the ocean waves.
I set the wooden plank on the bed since it’s too heavy for me to use as a weapon anyway. I finally open the door.
My eyes instantly spot the wooden table leg Quinn left for me. I grab it, holding it tightly to my chest. I feel more in control of my own fate with it as I step further into the hallway.
There was definitely some type of fight out here.
Dark, crimson blood coats the floor and a few sprays on the wall near the top of the staircase.
This isn’t just from the cut on my foot.
The table the typewriter was on is in pieces around me.
Quinn had to have used it to knock Ahmed unconscious.
But where is Ahmed? He obviously didn’t chase me down the stairs.
The stairs!
I throw open the second door in the hallway and see that it leads to a small balcony with a winding set of iron stairs leading up and down. If I go down, I’ll reach a rocky shore. The forest sits just yards away. I don’t relish the idea of being anywhere close to Travis.
Maybe if I go up, I’ll be able to scope out the area better and find a place to hide.
The iron steps creak ominously under my weight.
I quicken my pace to reach the top. There is yet another door waiting, but this one is being propped open with a large cinder block.
I tighten my grip around the table leg and tiptoe into the small space, letting out a sigh of relief when I realize I’m alone in here.
It’s a small circular room with large open windows lining the walls and a giant light at its core.
It’s a lighthouse! It must be the one we passed on the ferry to Windermere from the mainland. I can see everything from where I’m standing. This is the perfect place to figure out where I am without being seen by anyone.
I crouch and crawl around the circular room, peering out of each window while trying my best not to get spotted.
On one side of the lighthouse lies the ocean. On the other lies a large, vast forest full of trees so thick I can’t see anything through the canopy.
But what I can see in the distance, only about a mile or so away from the looks of it, nestled into the heart of the woods, is Windermere. The exact place I need to go.
My blood boils under my skin as I think of the man dwelling safely behind the stone fortress.
Pierce is the reason I’m here and the reason why my friends are now in danger.
They may have broken pieces of me, but they still hold a sacred place in my heart that I can’t quite release their hold on.
At the end of the day, I’d choose them every time.
They’re my heart and soul, and I won’t let this ruin us.
I want to ruin him the way he’s trying to ruin us.
Maybe it’s time to turn this game of cat and mouse around and send him running for the hills. After all, it really is every man—or woman for themselves now as we fight to survive.