Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
GRACE
T he car pitches upward. I slide into the rear wall of the dark trunk with a thud. The only thought I allow through my mind is this: I will run. I will find my way back to Mackinlay. I have done it before. I will do it again.
The small dark space around me is studded with the lone bullet hole from Louisa’s rifle and the slim beam of sunlight shining through. I stare at it. My beacon of hope. My last connection to Mack. To the love of my life. To the life I am so desperate to keep.
The Volvo hits a pothole. My head slams into the side of the trunk. My paint-marred hands are bound with duct tape. The tears I cried for the first hour in this freezing, cramped space have long dried on my face. The fear that rendered me helpless after I fought them off for a second time at the gas station is now replaced with calm. With determination.
I’m not the same girl I was in Mississippi. No, no longer a girl. A woman. The last months have seen me forged through fire. From one grand realization that I am worth more to finding my worth. My place.
I will fight.
Every day, with every breath.
I will not be subdued, ever again.
I will not give up the freedom I have found.
Nor the person I have become.
No matter how much they hurt me.
The thought of Mack coming home to find me gone, the destruction that ensued when Joel and Timmy overpowered me, sends fresh panic to my heart. Dammit, I was so stupid. Headphones blaring, brush in one hand, and oblivious to the outside world. I didn’t stand a chance. They had the element of surprise. They shouldn’t have. But the stress of worrying about Mack’s appointment drove me to need the escape. The music gave me that.
On cue, a rhythmic beat starts up in the car, echoing through the hollow metal. Music. The thumping beat tells me it’s techno. Ugh. As if my containment couldn’t get any worse. I close my eyes against the obnoxious noise and make a start on running through every scenario, finding the out in each one. Planning to run.
The Volvo careens downward.
Downhill.
The engine noise lightens. We must be traveling over the mountains. Away from Montana. Heading for the River State, most likely.
The temperature in the trunk cools further. I shiver. My teeth rattle in my head. I grit my teeth, and my puffy eyes burn. A wash of goosebumps floods my skin. To ward off the cold, I fill my mind with memories of Mackinlay. His arms wrapped around me. His warm breath against my neck, the shell of my ear.
“I will find my way back, Mackinlay,” I whisper to the void. “I promise.”
The darkness that has swallowed me whole since the trunk slammed shut drags me under.
I lose sight of the hole and the single beam of watery sunlight.
Exhausted, I let go.