Chapter 45
I napped in between meals. Staying up most of the night had left me exhausted and I knew I’d need to be well-rested so I could work on my shackles throughout the night.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to escape because even when I got my shackles off, the door was still locked. Depending on how much time I had before dawn, I might be able to pick that lock, too. But no doubt someone was guarding the house.
Thinking too far in advance caused anxiety to ricochet through my belly, so I forced myself to only think about the first step in front of me.
Despite what I’d told the Grand Patriarch, I was losing hope that Savage was alive.
I have to rescue myself. Rescue my babies.
I couldn’t wait. I wouldn’t stay here and let my due date draw closer. At some point, it would be too dangerous to try and flee. I’d be too big and there wouldn’t be any chance of success.
And after the birth of the babies, he’d begin to use me . . .
The room was stifling. The heat from the wood stove chimney warmed my sick in the chamber pot and the scent of it permeated the air. The Grand Matriarch brought me meals, but she would not empty my refuse bins. Apparently that was beneath her.
Breathing through my mouth, I wondered if the window was sealed shut, or if I could open it.
I slogged my way over to the window, the iron chains clanking across the wooden floor. I unlatched the window, grasped the bottom of the frame and heaved. It shot up quickly, not having been stuck at all. Cold air immediately washed over my skin. I took a deep inhale and closed my eyes.
Clunk!
My eyes flipped open. The window had slid shut because the rope holding the cast-iron metal sash weight had snapped.
I picked up the weight that had fallen and held it in my hand. It was heavy and round, and about ten inches long . . . just the right size to be used like a club.
I put the sash back into the window channel and hid the broken rope beneath the mattress. I didn’t want to keep it near me in case someone unexpectedly decided to search the room.
After dinner, I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I retrieved the sash from the window and climbed into bed. My fingers closed around it. I tried to stay awake, but when the room went dark, my eyes closed, and I fell asleep.
Hands clamped around my neck and my eyes flipped open.
Moonlight bathed the Grand Matriarch’s rage-infested face as she attempted to strangle the life out of me.
“ You think I’ll let my husband set me aside for a slut like you? ” Her fingers pressed deeper into the sides of my throat as she squeezed with all her might. “You took my son from me! I won’t let you take my husband!”
Black spots twinkled in front of my eyes.
I tried to fight—I tried to move my legs—but the iron shackles prevented me from kicking.
My hands went to her wrists, but she was bigger than me and she had anger and adrenaline on her side.
Something hard poked me in the back as I struggled to fling her off.
My hands fell from her wrists and felt for the sash weight from the window that I had dropped sometime when I’d been asleep. My fingers clamped around it.
My vision was nearly black, and my energy continued to drain, but I could still see the faint outline of her face and murder was in her eyes. I lifted my hand, and with all the force I had left inside of me, smashed the cast-iron weight against the side of her head.
Her cry of pain met my ears, and her hands loosened from around my neck.
Sweet air fueled my strength.
I hit her again and again until she fell over next to me on the bed. And then I pummeled her skull until the sheets were stained with brain and blood.
My hands shook with adrenaline. I dropped the sash weight and quickly scrambled to the side of the bed, lifted the sheet, and pulled out the hidden nail.
The nail kept slipping between my bloody fingers, so I wiped them on a clean part of the bed sheet.
I worked at a fervent pace, but with only the light from the window, my vision was compromised.
I heard the rush of heavy footsteps trekking up the stairs and it renewed my efforts. I was rewarded with the final ankle shackle falling off, but it was too late—someone was coming, and they were almost to the room.
The glow of an oil lamp appeared in the open doorway, painting the face of the Grand Patriarch in a demonic blaze.
His eyes burned with intensity as he surveyed the room. His gaze strayed to the bed. He lifted the oil lamp higher to get a better view.
“What have you done?” he murmured.
I searched for the sash weight, preparing to fight again.
“You killed her.” His attention sought mine and a wicked smile spread across his face. “You saved me the trouble. Now I am free to take you as my wife. In all ways . . .”
He rushed toward me.
My hand found the sash weight and wrapped around it. I chucked it at his head. Unfortunately, he darted out of the way and the weight hit the glass chimney of the brass oil lamp, causing it to shatter. Broken glass littered the floor.
While the Grand Patriarch was tending to the unprotected flame, I hoisted myself off the bed and gripped the iron chain and shackle.
I moved toward the door and stepped on a shard of broken glass. A cry of pain escaped my mouth.
The Grand Patriarch blew out the flame and tossed the oil lamp aside, the brass base clunking against the wooden floor.
He reached out and grabbed my wrist to stop me from using the iron chain against him. He squeezed until I was forced to let go. My makeshift weapon fell to the floor, useless.
“There’s no escaping me,” he growled as he pulled me to him.
He smelled like sweat and raw onions.
My body recoiled and my stomach gurgled in protest.
He wrapped his arms around me to cage me in.
The scent of him was too much for my pregnancy nose.
I opened my mouth and spewed up my dinner.
He howled and released me, shoving me away from him as I continued to vomit.
Through the sounds of my own retching, I heard the clomp of heavy boots on the stairs.
A silhouette appeared in the doorway.
The Grand Patriarch stripped off his shirt and began using it as a cloth to wipe the vomit off him. He was consumed with rage and wasn’t paying attention to the shadow that had entered the room.
Moonlight shone through the window. The shadow raised a hand.
A pistol . . .
As the crack of gunfire went off, the room suddenly lit up in a flash of light and the Grand Patriarch clutched his chest.
A startled gasp escaped his lips, and he stumbled backward before falling to his knees.
Savage stalked into the room; each step like a predator within sight of his prey.
A carrier of death and judgment.
He’s alive.
The Grand Patriarch attempted to speak, but blood bubbled from his mouth and began to run down his chin and onto his bare chest.
Savage walked right up to the Grand Patriarch, raised his pistol and said, “ Burn in hell, motherfucker .”
And then Savage put a bullet in the Grand Patriarch’s head. This time the back of his skull exploded, and his brains and blood splattered the bed.
His end came at Savage’s hands. Just like his wife’s came at the end of mine. Both their insides on the outside.
“Evie?” Savage’s voice was raspy in the night. He stepped closer. “Babe. It’s me, Savage.”
My mind took a moment to process that I was safe.
“ Savage? ”
He rushed toward me, glass crunching beneath his boots. He tucked his pistol into his jeans. “God, you’re covered in blood! Are you hurt?”
He ran his hands up and down my arms, checking for wounds.
“Not mine,” I stuttered out. I gestured with my chin to the body lying prostrate across the cot.
With a low curse, he grabbed the edge of the sheet and managed to fling it across the corpse on the bed.
“We need to get out of here,” he said. He took out his pistol again and then reached for my hand. “Stay behind me.”
Savage led the way, and I shadowed him as we went into the dark hallway.
“Hold onto the railing. I don’t want you to fall.”
He took the stairs slowly, but when we were only a few steps from the bottom, the front door opened.
Savage raised his pistol.
“It’s me,” Duke said. “We’re all set.”
Savage stuck his pistol into his waistband and then grabbed my hand again. We followed Duke outside.
Crow and a man I didn’t know appeared from the darkness like smoke in the night; they both held plastic gas cans.
“It’s done,” the stranger said.
“You want the honors?” Duke asked Savage.
“No.” He looked at me. “This is for you, Evie. If you want to.”
Savage reached into his inner vest pocket and pulled out a long barbecue lighter and held it out to me.
“If you can’t do it, I will,” he said so quietly I knew the others couldn’t hear.
“No.” I swallowed. “I can do it.”
I took the lighter from him and marched toward the house. I angled the lighter to the base and watched as fire licked the rotting wooden boards of the farmhouse.
Savage pulled me back and filched the lighter from me. It took a few moments, but then with a whoosh the flames drew sustenance and fury from peeling paint and wood.
The five of us stood and watched as the roof finally caught fire, and then I turned from the sight. I started walking away, walking nowhere, but I didn’t look behind me. Not even when I heard the glass of the windows shatter and smelled the smoke that filled the air.
I felt Savage’s hand slide into mine and squeeze my fingers. I squeezed back and left my past behind me forever.