Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“Stacy! Do you hear that? He’s coming back,” hissed Emelia, her heart pounding in her chest as she strained against the tight bindings.
Emelia had the great idea of banging the rickety chair into the wall, hoping it would break. However, after throwing herself at the wall several times, she had been unsuccessful in removing the bindings or at breaking the chair.
Now not only were her wrists and ankles hurting more, but her head was also throbbing.
But she refused to give up without a fight. Did she possess enough strength and courage to follow through? Wyatt may have betrayed her, stolen from her, and threatened to ruin her, but she became stronger for it. So yes, she did. Plus, Titus would want her never to give up. Titus! What she wouldn’t give to be in his arms right now.
Emelia sighed. Time was running out. Her only option was to scoot the chair nearer to the door, anticipating Tim’s opening it. Then what? She wasn’t sure, but she’d think of something. Emelia was determined not to die today.
Stacy, on the other hand, wasn’t much help as she writhed on the ground like a snake trying to get to the wall next to the door.
What a mess. A hog-tied woman and another with her hands and feet tied to a chair trying to take down a grown man. If they were successful, then what? Hop and hump out of there like a pair of circus clowns?
Absolutely.
Emelia snickered at the absurdity of it. Who cared what you looked like when you were trying to escape a killer? Hopefully, Titus and the Brotherhood would find them by then. If not, maybe they’d make it to the road and someone would come along and help. Wouldn’t that be a sight though?
It wasn’t a great plan, not even a good plan, but it was definitely better than nothing.
They had the element of surprise and a chance for survival. It was a small glimmer of hope, and she’d take it.
Footsteps outside the door.
The door creaked open.
Tim was humming as he walked in and shut the door. He hadn’t seen them yet.
Emelia half-stood. She was ready to tip the chair in his direction to knock him off balance.
Stacy was on the floor by his feet.
Tim wasn’t looking. He tripped over Stacy and stumbled.
It was time.
Emelia tilted the chair, pushed herself and landed on Tim, covering half his body.
“Son of a bitch,” he yelled, writhing under Emelia’s weight. “Get the hell off me.”
Tim struggled, but he couldn’t get a solid grip on Emelia.
His alcohol-ladened breath assaulted her nose, making her want to vomit. Apparently, Tim had a liquid lunch at the local bar. But that was to their advantage.
He pushed and shoved. Emelia felt herself being moved off him.
Nooo. I can’t die here. I have too much to live for, especially a future with Titus .
The plan was going to hell.
Tim reached down and tried to choke her. She couldn’t do anything to move his hands. Her vision blurred. Panic surged through her body as Tim tightened his grip. The sensation of darkness was overwhelming. Tim’s voice screaming in the background was just so much static. Stacy was moaning.
She couldn’t breathe. Was this how it was to end?