Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
BAILEY - BEFORE
Shriveled leaves crunch beneath my feet as I run faster than I’d thought possible.
Arms pumping, I sprint, weaving through tree trunks, and for the first time in forever, I feel alive.
My chest heaves but I manage to suck in enough air to keep going—clean air, forest air, free air.
I’m so close. The road is right there… if only I can run faster.
My limbs feel lighter than ever before, like I could float away from all this.
Or maybe that’s just the knowledge that I’ve finally escaped.
Only a few more feet and I’ll be free. I can hug Mom and Dad…
Jasper. Damon. Leon. If he’ll still have me once he finds out what they did to me. How they used me.
Dawn creeps through the canopy, painting everything golden. Almost there.
Almost—
“Bailey!”
My name slices through the morning air like a blade. I whip my head around, stumbling. No. No. No. I’m so close. That voice—it follows me even into sleep. King’s voice.
“You can’t get away from me, pet! I own you!”
When I turn back, the trees have moved. Impossibly and silently, they’ve shifted closer, their branches reaching for me like twisted fingers. The golden dawn light dies, swallowed by shadows that seem to breathe.
“Bailey, I’m here. Run to me!”
It’s Leon’s voice that drifts through the darkness now, so close I could almost touch him.
Two voices… one of my dreams and one of my nightmares.
I reach toward his familiar cadence, trying to show him where I am.
That I’m so close. But bark bites into my palms. The trees have become a cage, the branches weaving tighter as I desperately push against them.
I writhe free, the sound of his voice giving me strength even with needle-sharp limbs piercing my skin, and warm blood dripping down my arms.
“Leon!” I scream from deep within my chest, but it’s no more than a whisper. “I’m right here. Can’t you see me?”
He’s calling my name, over and over, but I can’t reach him. I can never reach him. I can’t help the hot tears that stream down my cheeks.
The branches wrap around me like coarse, skin-tearing rope, like gnarled hands, squeezing and choking until there’s nothing left but King’s laughter echoing against my lifeless, blood-streaked body.
“I own you. I will always own you.”
My eyes snap open to darkness. Real darkness. Familiar darkness. I hold my hands up, checking for scratches, but of course, there’s nothing there but my dry, chafing knuckles. Just another dream. But it felt so real… and Leon, his voice was so close.
Could it mean he’s searching for me? It’s silly to hope at this point. It’s been so long now. But imagining that they’ve given up on me—my family, my friends… him. It’s too painful to bear.
Cat snores softly in the bed beside me, anchoring me back to the present. We’ve been allowed to share a room. A small comfort since they brought us to this new house.
Hours go by while I toss and turn, picturing that dark wood. When the morning sun shines through the dirty glass, I finally get up, and pad to the window as quietly as I can.
The trees must span miles. Bare like dark spines crowding the vast landscape. I’m grateful for the view anyway. It’s something external to focus on in this nightmare.
We’ve been in this house for a few months now.
Or at least I think. I haven’t been able to keep track of time as much as I’d like.
After the last party, Yuri and a few of his guys moved us here.
Cat heard whispers about a suspicious neighbor tipping off the cops, but that could have been wishful thinking.
Though I swear I saw the same dark sedan parked across the street three times the week before we were moved.
The windows were tinted, but there had to be a person sitting inside—watching, waiting.
I knew from the start that first house was somewhere to keep us short-term. I guess I never thought about what would happen next beyond my small hope that I’d be able to escape… or be rescued.
Besides being allowed to share a room with Cat, it’s been quieter here.
We haven’t had any visitors since we moved.
And King hasn’t shown up. A reprieve I don’t trust. My stomach churns, remembering his cruel voice in my dream.
His body hovering over me. His vicious touch.
I keep waiting for the moment he’ll walk through the door.
His heavy footsteps announcing his arrival before that suffocating cloud of expensive cologne fills the room.
I’m always listening for those footsteps, always dreading the moment his scent invades my nostrils again, sharp and nauseating and wrong. I know Cat feels it too… We all do. The dread of what’s to come. The sliver of hope that still remains.
The mattress creaks and Cat groans. “Jesus, B, it’s barely dawn.”
“Sorry! I couldn’t sleep.” I cross the room and flop back on the bed beside her. “Don’t be mad at me.”
“Mad? Nah.” She rolls to her side and stretches her legs. Her dark tangled hair partially covers her face. “I thought I heard you talking in your sleep earlier. Whimpering, maybe.” Her voice gets softer. “Was it about him?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
She doesn’t push, only nods. That’s something I’ve grown to like about Cat and the others. They don’t pry.
I slip out to use the bathroom down the hall, and when I get back, she’s crouched by the bed, one hand shoved under the mattress. The door hinge gives me away with its jarring creak, and she yanks her hand back like it was bit.
“Checking your stash of crushed crackers and granola bars again?”
“And cash,” she says, standing and brushing off her knees.
“Don’t forget that little detail.” She heads for the door, probably to take her turn in the bathroom.
“And keep your damn voice down about it. They find my shit and I’ll have to kill you.
” She pauses at the doorway, glancing back with a smile.
“And I’m starting to like your annoying ass. ”
I smirk and mime zipping my lips as she closes the door.
She hasn’t shared exactly how much cash she has stashed under the mattress, just that she ramped up her scavenging after Jasmine was taken.
Dropped coins “forgotten” on the kitchen floor, a few bills slipped from “visitors” wallets while they were distracted—she even managed to snag a twenty from one of Yuri’s new guys, Erik.
What she had to do to get that twenty, she wouldn’t tell me, but I’m assuming it didn’t come easy.
The floorboards in the hallway groan under someone’s footsteps, so I crouch on the side of the bed, holding my breath. There’s a small knock before the door swings open, revealing a half asleep Lydia and Elise. I release a breath.
“Erik came in our room a few minutes ago, requesting a pancake breakfast. What the hell are we? His personal housewives?” Lydia yawns as she perches on the edge of the bed. “Why are you on the floor?”
Elise does a sideways flop next to her and scoots up to the head of the bed, wrapping herself in the blanket Cat and I share. She rubs her eyes and adds, “Could be worse.”
“You’re right. He could have asked for eggs Benedict or some shit.
” I can’t help but snort. She picks at her nails, the three of us quiet for a few minutes.
“Imagine us on some reality show—the real housewives of Shitville. Pancake breakfasts by day, tied up and fucked by night. We’d be celebrities. ”
Elise lets out a dry laugh. “What are you smoking this morning?”
“Nothing. That’s the problem.” She huffs and lays on her back. “Where’s Cat?”
“Bathroom,” I say. “She should be right back.”
But if Erik is awake, who knows how quickly that could change.
Lydia seems to be reading my mind. “Speaking of Erik, he seems to really like Cat.”
“And I think she knows it too,” Elise adds.
I join them on the bed, careful to avoid Cat’s snack stash. I’ve picked up on the way Erik seems to favor her, but I’m curious what the others have seen. “Why do you say that?”
Lydia raises a thin brow and holds up her palm.
“One, he’s always staring at her, and not like the others stare, like they’re thinking of all the nasty shit they want to do.
He’s got those obsessed heart eyes. Of course the moment she glances his way, he’s back to the swaggering tough guy act.
Two—” She holds up another finger. “—he brings her little things. Extra food, cigarettes, even gave her that hair tie she’s always wearing.
And three—” A third finger joins the count.
“—yesterday I saw him slip her something when he thought no one was looking. Money, maybe? Or a note?” She shrugs.
“Either way, it’s dangerous. For both of them. ”
She’s notices so much more than me, but that’s not surprising. Lydia still has the eagle eyes of a mom, even though she’s been away from her kids for almost a year. That kind of superpower never leaves. I remember my own mom being the same way.
Elise blinks at her, and says through a yawn, “Shit.”
“What?” Lydia asks.
“I never noticed all that.”
Lydia gives her arm a caring squeeze. “That’s why you have me.”
“Maybe we should get dressed, see about this pancake situation,” I say. “Cat can’t still be in the bathroom. I bet she’s already downstairs.”
Lydia smirks. “See? Told you.”
“You don’t think she actually likes him, do you?” Elise asks on her way out the door. “He still works for them.”
I shrug, genuinely unsure. I never would have thought Layne would stay with her cheating bastard of a boyfriend, and I’ve witnessed so many other friends make questionable choices in partners. “She hasn’t said anything to me, but I’ll ask her when we’re alone.”
“Good,” is all Lydia says as she heads out into the hallway to get dressed. She’s not the only one who’s had a keen eye on Cat these last few weeks. I’ve noticed the changes in her too. I’ll find out what’s going on tonight… Hopefully she’ll be in the mood to talk.
I dress in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, both hand-me-downs with someone else’s scratched out name in Sharpie on the tag.
The elastic waistband is stretched and threads fraying, but I’m grateful for the warmth.
Other than a few secondhand pieces, all we’ve been given is cheap lingerie that grates against my skin.
I pad barefoot down the stairs, stopping when I hear murmured voices coming from the kitchen.
“When?”
It’s Cat’s voice. There’s no mistaking the plea in her tone.
“I told you, be patient,” a male voice answers. Erik, most likely.
I listen for the others—Yuri’s accented inflection, the abrasive chatter of his lackeys, and of course, I listen for King.
I’d rather expect him to be there and prepare for the worst, than the alternative.
There’s only the two quiet voices though, so I roll my lip between my teeth and try to make myself heard as I cross the threshold into the kitchen.
“B.” Cat quickly steps away from Erik. “I didn’t hear you coming downstairs.”
Erik nods at me, messing with the baseball cap on his head.
“I heard something about pancakes?” I ask tentatively and Cat raises a brow. “Lydia said.”
I start to explain as Erik crosses the kitchen and pulls a box of mix out of the cabinet. “Just add water,” he says.
I’m struck by how fucking bizarre this whole morning has been, but pancakes are pancakes. I’ll take them while I can.
Lydia and Elise join us a few minutes later, the former taking over my batter mixing and tutting at the too thin concoction, whispering that her granny would roll over in her grave if she saw her using a premade mix.
Soon the smell of sizzling pancakes fills the space.
Erik stays quiet at the table, watching us work in the kitchen, directing me where to find the artificial syrup, another thing that makes Lydia clutch her chest. I spy him sneaking glances at Cat every few seconds though, and I’d bet money if I had any that she knows exactly what he’s doing.
At the first bite of warm, syrup-drenched pancake, I close my eyes and chew, savoring the flavor. Even made with lumpy box mix, they taste better than anything I’ve eaten in weeks.
I can almost imagine mom in the kitchen on Sunday mornings, her huge electric griddle spitting as she pours homemade pancake batter onto it, perfectly circular.
Bacon sizzling in a frying pan on the stove, getting extra crispy, how we all like it.
She chugs coffee with French vanilla creamer out of her Snoopy mug, grumbling that she can’t wait until Mother’s Day, when she can be the one getting served breakfast.
I’d serve her a million pancakes in bed if it meant I’d get to see her again.
Before I know it, I’ve cleared my plate and chugged my entire glass of water. When I look up, I notice Erik staring at me. He rubs his stubbled chin and asks, “What’s your deal?”
I glance side to side where Cat, Lydia, and Elise have gone quiet before responding. “What do you mean?”
He leans his forearms on the table, tilting his head as if it’ll help him get a better look at me. He points to Lydia. “She’s the mom.” Then Elise. “Junkie.” And finally to Cat. “And what is it that he calls you? The mouthy one?” He smirks as Cat glares at him. “What’s your whole thing?”
“She’s the newbie,” Cat says through a mouthful of pancake.
“Nah,” Erik says. “Not anymore, from what I’ve been told.”
“What have you been told?” I ask, although I’m not sure I want to know.
He shrugs and scrapes his fork along the edge of his plate. “Enough.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and shrug. “I’m nothing special. Just a girl… A girl who wants to go home.”
My words seem to break whatever happy illusion bubble we were momentarily visiting. Erik’s eyes narrow as he says, “Well, ‘just a girl,’ I hate to be the one to tell you, but you’re never going home. Not after what I found out this morning.”
The pancakes sit heavy in my gut.
“The fuck does that mean?” Cat asks, her voice sharp. She looks taken aback, betrayed.
“I shouldn’t have opened my big fucking mouth.” He shoves back from the table and knocks his fist against it… Not hard, but enough to get our attention. “If Yuri asks, you didn’t fucking hear anything from me. Got it?”
His eyes are locked onto Cat’s, but it’s me who nods, barely whispering, “Got it.”
Erik hurries from the room like his ass is on fire, leaving the four of us staring at each other in stunned silence.
The warm, syrupy comfort of moments before has evaporated, replaced by the cold reality that whatever temporary reprieve we’d found in pancakes and morning chatter was just that—temporary.
Cat’s fork clatters against her plate. “What the hell was that about?”
But I already know. Deep in my bones, I know. Whatever Erik found out this morning, whatever made him look at me like I’m already a ghost, it’s bad. Really bad.
Lydia clears her throat. “I’ll do the dishes.”