Chapter 3
Cora
Self-pity doesn’t fit me. It’s an ill-fitting suit, wrapping around me too tightly.
It always feels unwarranted because I am, after all, the cause of my demise.
I helped create the rules and never told a soul.
I’m the master of my fate as was the one who decided to manipulate Rune’s hatred, trying to shape him by being compliant.
But when you try to force affection by being at their service—behaving sweetly, more compliant, more usable and abusable—love never blooms. Something else forms. A dark, twisted power imbalance, and they just take and take and take until there’s nothing left.
But Rune hasn’t taken every ounce of me yet.
I refuse to let him.
I prop myself up in bed and gaze around Breaker’s room, taking in the tidy space. It’s just like him. So neat and orderly. I want to sink back into the scent of him, his warm covers, and soft pillows, but I can’t sleep.
I’m too full. Too empty.
Too fucking done.
I’ve spent the last hour turning the entire situation over and over in my head and deep in my gut I know what I have to do.
God, he’s going to be pissed. They both are.
But there are no other options.
Just the thought of my plan sends an oily sensation through me.
I rake my nails down my arms, trying to rid myself of Rune’s lingering touch, but it’s a stain I’ll never fully scrub away.
As much as I want to hide here forever, I have to move forward and attempt to reduce the casualties Rune leaves in his wake.
Clyde saw what happened. If Rune finds out Clyde now knows what he did to me, it will put a target on Clyde’s back, and I’ll lose the only man who’s ever really loved me the way a father should.
Completely. Without question. Without strings.
Reaper’s face flashes in my mind.
I need you to trust me.
Reaper sent me back because he had no choice. I know how it feels to be so trapped, so not in control of your own destiny, that when he asked me to trust him, to wait, to be what he needed. While I don’t know what they have planned for Delly, I do know what Reaper needs me to do.
So I will be what he needs.
His eyes and ears.
My mind made up, I toss back the blankets and stand on shaky legs.
Nausea rolls through my stomach as I touch my forehead, then my cheek, finding tender spots where I know bruises will bloom.
Still in my jeans and t-shirt from earlier, I ignore the crawling under my skin and scan the room, spotting my shoes and wristlet by the door.
I rush for them and slide my shoes on, then dig out my phone and stuff my ID and a few credit cards into my bra. The less I have to carry, the better.
My phone is off, and I almost power it on, but Clyde’s warning about Rune tracking me flashes through my mind. I keep it turned off and shove it in my back pocket. I don’t know how any of that works, but if Clyde turned it off, then that must mean Rune can only see my location when it’s on.
At the door, I press my ear against it, listening.
When I hear nothing I open it a crack, half-expecting Breaker to be guarding the door, but the hallway is empty.
I slip out, then tiptoe down the catwalk.
Below, the first floor sits dark and vacant, the only light the Christmas lights wrapped around the support poles.
When I hear muffled voices drifting down from above, I glance up to the top floor where they keep the surveillance equipment. Clyde and Breaker must be up there talking, which works well for me. They’re probably watching Rune on all those cameras.
Cameras that they have set up at Rune’s and my condo.
I’ll deal with that when the time comes.
Pulse racing, I inch down the stairs and stop on the bottom step. When no one appears, I rush toward the factory’s front door, then stop. I need time. More time than I have. With a quick glance back up to the third floor, I backtrack and sneak into the bathroom where Breaker and I bathed yesterday.
God, was all this really just a day ago?
I bolt to the first stall and turn the knob. Water explodes from the pipes with a metallic groan. My heart slams into my chest, and I dart to the door, opening it just enough to make sure neither of them came downstairs, drawn by the noise.
Hopefully the shower will buy me some time.
Waiting a heartbeat, I ease the bathroom door closed, and creep to the metal exit door, eyes fixed on the top floor stairwell, bracing for Breaker or Clyde to appear.
Before I can second-guess my decision, I unlock the latch, and ease the door open, stepping out into the cool night air.
Several large floodlights illuminate the empty parking lot around the building. Beyond that, it’s just shadowy night.
The level of surveillance I saw upstairs tells me this place must have cameras so I scan the lot and building.
Spotting none, I hug the wall as I make my way toward the front of the factory, and peer around the corner.
Clyde’s SUV sits by the bay door, and I debate checking it for keys, but realize I don’t have the code to open the gate.
I’ll have to find another way out.
I look for cameras one more time, then dart toward the back of the lot, giving a wide berth to what looks like a garage with twin roll-up doors. Sodium-colored floodlights cast everything around the building in a ghoulish white, illuminating walls covered in sprawling graffiti tags.
I pause, breathing hard. The graffiti means there’s a way in.
And out.
Relief floods me until I spot the razor wire glinting along the fence top. Whoever tagged these walls didn’t climb over that. They either found a break in the fence or made one.
I sprint across the parking lot, skidding to a stop at the back fence. Pain explodes behind my eyes. The world tilts. I clutch the metal links, swaying as fear, adrenaline, and dizziness swirl through me. When the pain subsides, I scan the shadows, hoping I’m hidden.
Hope.
A fool’s wish.
Once my eyes adjust to the darkness, I glance over my shoulder at the factory, my heart sinking.
I have to do this. There is no other way.
Besides, he’s expecting me.
Dragging my hand along the cool metal links, I walk the fence line, searching for a break in the links.
Just as I’m ready to give up and find another way out, or go back and reason with Clyde, I spot a section where someone’s cut just enough chain link to curl upward, leaving a gap just big enough for a small body.
Small like me.
I drop to my knees, ignoring the pain blaring in my head and the dull ache between my legs, and push the fencing outward.
I may fit.
I have to.
Loose asphalt scrapes my palms as I lower to my belly and slowly shimmy through the opening. My shirt snags on a jagged piece of fencing.
“Fuck,” I hiss, twisting to free myself. I push through as my hair snags, then my jeans. Biting my lip against frustrated tears, I force my hips through the opening. Chain links rattle as I pop free, scrambling to my feet on the other side.
Clyde’s going to strangle me.
God knows what Breaker is going to do.
Nothing, Cora. They can’t do a damn thing, which is why it’s up to you.
And I need to hurry.
With one last glance over my shoulder, I sprint the empty lot beside theirs until I hit the sidewalk.
I double over, hands on knees, gulping air.
Pain spikes through my temples, and I stand upright, pressing my fingers against the dull throb as I scan the shadow-draped street.
At this hour, I’m hoping that anyone with nefarious intent is home sleeping, and not out looking for someone to kidnap.
I’ve already been through that and I doubt I’d be so lucky a second time.
Inhaling, I square my shoulders, trying to untangle the knot in my chest, and head away from the men’s compound, past deserted stores and vacant lots.
Overhead, the streetlights buzz and pop, like those bug zappers people use when they’re camping, blasting every inch of pavement with harsh white, leaving me exposed.
I quicken my pace, throwing glances over my shoulder until the factory disappears behind me.
I relax, but then a voice rasps from the darkness beside a boarded-up convenience store and my pulse explodes.
Fuck. I really don’t feel like being murdered right now.
“Hey,” the voice says again. “Got some change?”
The shadows shift, and an old woman emerges into the harsh streetlight, a ratty flannel draped over her bony shoulders.
“Nope,” I say, picking up my pace into a jog.
“Fuck you too,” she spits as I hurry past.
When she takes off in the opposite direction, my shoulders drop and I slow down, focusing on the distant row of lights. I remember seeing a gas station next to the shopping complex when Breaker drove me here. Hopefully it’s open 24 hours.
Me and that damn hope again. But the faster I’m out of here, the less likely I’ll be caught.
When I round the corner, I spot the shopping complex. All the stores are dark, but the gas station on the corner is open. I look both ways before crossing the street, even though there is no one around except for a suspicious bundle of blankets nestled beside the large Dollar General.
The bell jingles as I shove the convenience store door open.
Cold air blasts my face, along with the scent of stale coffee and chemical floral deodorizer strong enough to make me wince.
The girl behind the counter looks my way, her gaze snagging on me for a few seconds before she goes back to her phone.
I hurry to the counter, my heart jack hammering, my palms landing on the scratched glass.
“Hey,” I say to the girl. She’s around my age, eyes smeared with black eyeliner, her brow and nose holding several piercings. She levels me with a look that tells me whatever reason I have for bothering her better be good.
“Yeah?” she asks, eyes moving from my face to my hands resting on the countertop. She shoves her phone in her back pocket as she eyes me. Her brows knit a little, and panic sweeps through me.
I catch my reflection in the sunglasses rack mirror and grimace. There’s a small lump on my forehead and a faint bruise on my cheek. My eyes look haunted, wild and desperate.
But then again, I am.
“What do you need?” she asks.
“Can I use your phone?” I meet her eyes again. “To call a taxi? My phone died, so I can’t order a ride.”
Her face pinches but she pulls her phone out and taps the screen. My heart slams against my ribs, the absurd fear that she knows who I am, or that she’s calling the police, creates an urge to dash for the door as she lifts it to her ear.
A second later she says, “Yeah, I need a taxi at—” she rattles off the address of our location, eyes never leaving mine, then says, “Where to?”
I give her the address of the intersection near my condo. Her brows raise but she repeats it, then hangs up.
“Thanks,” I say, backing away. “I’ll wait outside.”
“You got cash?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“Watch your card then, because they’ll tack on extra fees if they don’t steal your info.” She eyes my forehead as she shoves the phone back into her pocket, then gestures to my face. “Bad boys aren’t worth it. They start out sexy and thrilling, then do that.”
I touch the tender lump, wincing. If she only knew.
I nod and shove the door open with more force than necessary and step outside. The glow of downtown in the distance blocks out the stars, making me wish I was back at the men’s estate watching the night sky over the ocean with Delly.
Delly. I miss her so much. I wonder if she’s watching the sky from our room, missing me as much as I miss her. Wishing she were here.
If only here, this place, wasn’t such hell. And if only not returning to Rune was an option. Clyde is in danger. It doesn’t matter that they’ve been friends for years. Rune would remove him just like he removed my mother because Rune Gavin will not be stopped.
Men like him never are.
There’s only one place I can go.
The one place where he knows I’ll go crawling back, because I always do.
The one place Reaper said he needed me.
On the inside.