Chapter 3
VANESSA
“Fuck!”
Hot Psycho Lumberjack releases me to scrub at his face, and I take advantage of his distraction to jump down from the vanity and scramble for the door.
He spins around, lunging toward me, but for once I’m faster and I manage to wrench the door open, a sob bubbling up in my chest as I dart for freedom.
The house is a maze, and I have to force myself to focus past the panic clouding my brain. I think we came from the left, so I turn that way and run as fast as my legs will take me.
Some benevolent god must be taking pity on me, because I spot the living room where the rest of his fucked-up family has returned to whatever game they’re playing. Marjorie looks up at me, a startled expression on her face that matches those of the other two women also dressed like living dolls.
I want to rescue all of them, but I can’t. It’s going to be hard enough to run with just Marjorie, but two extra people will slow us down too much. Maybe once we get to town I can send help.
Assuming the whole town isn’t as fucked-up as the Thorne siblings.
“We have to go!” Choking back tears, I lunge for Marjorie, grabbing hold of her wrist. “Come on! Run!”
But before I can take more than a step, a thick arm wraps around my waist, hauling me off the ground. A scream of pure terror rips from my throat as I claw at the iron band wrapped tightly around me.
“Stop that,” an unfamiliar voice growls in my ear, a moment before pain explodes across my ass.
The shock of being swatted like a recalcitrant child yet again momentarily stuns me into submission and I go limp in the giant’s arms.
“Thanks, Eli. She got away from me.”
My original captor plucks me from the giant’s grasp. He isn’t, despite his oversized arms, actually a giant, though he is much larger than his siblings. Just like them, most of his face is obscured by a bushy beard, but it does nothing to hide his scowl.
“You really gonna keep her?”
Dane—I’m assuming that’s his name since Marjorie called him Uncle Dane—tightens his hold on me, swinging me slightly away from his brother like I’m a toy he’s afraid of having snatched away. “Yes. I found her, she’s mine.”
Eli’s eyes narrow. “She’s trouble, is what she is.”
“Oh, leave him alone, Eli.” A woman steps forward, taller than average but still several inches shorter than the men who surround her.
She smiles, but it isn’t a nice smile. There’s something at the edges of it, glinting in her eyes, that tells me she’s just as dangerous if not more so than any man in this house.
“She won’t be any more trouble than her cousins, I’m sure. Isn’t that right, Vanessa?”
For the first time in my life, I understand those girls in horror movies who freeze at exactly the wrong moment, when the danger is at its peak. Captured in this man’s arms, staring down the most terrifying woman I’ve ever seen, I do the first thing that comes to mind.
I nod.
The woman’s smile warms just a fraction.
Or maybe that’s my mind playing tricks on me because I so desperately need to believe that there is some hope of escape from his house of horrors.
“Good girl. Now, you wait here like a good girl while I grab my hairbrush for you and your Daddy to have a come to Jesus talk.”
I’ve read enough of Marjorie’s books to know what that hairbrush is most likely to be used for, considering I can still feel the sting of Eli’s palm on my ass and taste the soap on my tongue.
“No, please!” To my horror and humiliation, tears burn in my eyes.
“I just want to save my friend. Just let me and Marjorie go and we won’t tell anyone, I swear. ”
“But I don’t want to go.”
The quiet words draw my attention to where Marjorie is tucked up against a man who has a protective arm around her, and my heart cracks clean in two. “You don’t mean that. They’ve just… brainwashed you.”
Several sets of eyes narrow at my declaration and my heart lodges firmly in my throat. But it’s Marjorie who steps in, looking up at the man beside her with a pleading expression on her face. “Can I talk to Vanessa alone, please?”
Her… Daddy, I guess, frowns and looks down at her. “Anything you need to say to her can be said in front of the family.”
“Daddy. I’m asking you to trust me. Please?”
Because I’m watching them so closely, I see the instant he softens. “All right, bug. You two can go sit in the dining room. We’ll be right here. But if she tries to run, you call.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Turning, Marjorie looks not at me, but at the man still holding me hostage—literally. “Uncle Dane? Can I please talk to my friend alone for a few minutes? I promise it will help.”
Help? Help? Absolutely nothing she could say would convince me that these people aren’t fucking crazy and she isn’t in danger.
But I keep those thoughts to myself. If Marjorie has been captive here for as long as I believe, she might know something I don’t about dealing with them. So, for now, I’ll trust her and follow her lead.
Dane sighs, and hope explodes behind my ribs. “All right. But if she escapes, I’m taking my belt to both your bottoms, Josephine Elise.”
Marjorie—Josephine, ugh, it’s so hard to keep up with her aliases—frowns slightly but ultimately nods. “Yes, Sir.”
I manage to stay silent right up until we’re left alone in the giant dining room. “Okay, what’s the plan?” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder like someone might magically appear at any second to punish us. Which, in my defense, does seem highly likely given recent events.
Marjorie, however, just rolls her eyes. “There’s no plan.” She points to a chair. “Sit, and I’ll tell you everything.”
Curiosity temporarily overpowers my desire to get us the fuck out of here, so I drop down onto the seat. “You have two minutes to convince me why I shouldn’t just drag your ass out of here and steal a car or something so I can take you home.”
“So dramatic,” she drawls, lowering herself onto the chair beside mine. “This might take more than two minutes, but I need you to sit and be quiet and listen. Can you do that?”
“Sure.” It’s not exactly a lie, even if I’ve already made up my mind that nothing she could possibly tell me would convince me not to go through with my rescue attempt.
“Thank you.” Closing her eyes, she drags in a deep breath, as if bracing herself for something.
When she opens them again, they’re hardened with a resolve that sits in my stomach like a rock.
“Do you remember the boy I told you about? The one with the big family that lived next door to me growing up?”
Secondhand grief twists in my chest. “The boy you were in love with, right?”
She smiles, the edges tinged with sadness. “It was more than just love. He was my everything. My soulmate. When I thought I’d lost him, and his family, it broke something inside me. Something that, for years afterward, I thought would never be made whole again.”
“Oh, Marjorie.” Leaning forward, I start to reach for her hand, but I stop short as her words register. “Wait. You said when you thought you’d lost him.”
“Yeah.” Now her smile brightens, love all but shining through her pores. “Turns out, they didn’t die. They just… relocated.”
For a moment, I can only stare at her. “Relocated,” I parrot, my brain trying to make sense of what she’s telling me.
“Yes. It’s a long story, but basically they faked their deaths to escape a dangerous situation and they fled the state. And they ended up in Colorado.”
The first puzzle piece clicks into place. “The Thornes are your long-lost family friends.”
“And Bram is Bennett. So, you see, I’m not being held hostage here. I just reunited with the love of my life. I’m sorry if I worried you.”
It should be a relief. But something still isn’t adding up. “Why?”
Marjorie blinks, then frowns. “Why, what?”
“Why would they have to fake their own deaths? Who was after them?”
“Ah…” Her gaze slides toward the living room before returning to me. “It’s complicated.”
“Then help me uncomplicate it, because from where I’m standing they’re still sketchy as fuck.”
“Shhh,” she hisses, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “If Uncle Dane hears you swearing again, you’re gonna be in big trouble.”
Completely ignoring her warning, I drill a finger into her shoulder. “And that! Why the fuck do you call him ‘Uncle Dane’? That’s fucking weird.”
“I’m starting to think you have a death wish,” she mumbles as she flops back against the chair. “But I guess I can tell you since Uncle Dane has clearly decided he wants to keep you.”
Terror coils icy fingers around my spine. “Keep me?”
“Yes,” she says with a shrug, like it’s the most normal goddamn thing in the world for a man to simply decide he’s keeping a woman against her will.
“Marjorie, seriously, what the fuck is going on here? Why are you dressed like a child? Who are these people?”
“I told you. They’re my family.”
“Oh my god.” Unable to stand another second of this insanity, I jump to my feet and grab her wrist, trying with all my might to pull her up with me. “We’re leaving. And we’re going to find you a therapist who specializes in brainwashing. But we have to go before they come to check on us.”
“It’s a bit too late for that, little fox.”
Fuck.