Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
The cabin door creaked open.
Light exploded into the room.
Gina squeezed her eyes shut too late, white pain slicing through her skull as the beam cut straight into her face. Even with her eyes closed, she saw it—bright flares swimming behind her lids, burning away the darkness she’d almost started to prefer.
“Good,” her captor said. “You’re awake.”
Her stomach clenched.
She lay where he’d left her on the rough wooden floor, wrists bound again behind her back, ankles tied just tightly enough to ache.
Every inch of her body hurt. The cold had settled deep into her bones, a relentless, gnawing chill that no amount of shivering could help.
She remembered yesterday—at least, she thought it was yesterday—when the man had “let her go.”
She remembered running.
Running and running and running until her lungs felt like they were shredding from the inside out. Three hours. Maybe more. She had no way to know for sure.
The sun had been low at first, slicing through the trees in blinding shafts of light.
She’d torn through the forest, bare feet slapping over snow, over icy stones and roots. Her skin had split open with every misstep. She’d ducked behind trees, crouched behind boulders slick with moss, pressed her body flat against the earth and tried to breathe without making a sound.
It hadn’t mattered.
Every time she dared to believe she’d lost him, she’d heard it—his footsteps, steady and unhurried. Sometimes his voice as it drifted through the trees like a taunt.
“Careful, Gina. You’re leaving tracks.”
She’d looked back and caught a glimpse of him, wondering if she’d finally see his face.
He’d been wearing a mask.
Her hands and arms throbbed now, purple bruises blooming beneath the grime. One ankle had begun to swell, stiff and hot beneath the skin, pain flaring whenever she shifted even slightly. She thought she might have twisted it when she’d slipped on loose gravel near a ravine.
She hadn’t even screamed when he’d caught her.
She’d been too tired.
He’d come up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist as if they were dancing. She’d clawed and kicked weakly, nails scraping uselessly against his jacket.
“There you are.” He didn’t bother to hide the delight in his voice. “I was afraid you’d disappoint me.”
He’d carried her a few steps and then dragged her by one arm the rest of the way back to the cabin.
Literally dragged her.
Like she was nothing.
A sack. A trophy. A rag doll he’d grown bored with.
At first, she’d tried to fight. Then she’d run out of energy. She had nothing left to give.
So she’d let him pull her along the cold, rocky ground.
Her stomach roiled at the memory of her skin tearing against sharp sticks. At her clothes ripping on stones. Of her skin bruising as she bounced along.
Back at the cabin, he’d tied her up again, humming softly under his breath as he worked. Then he’d crouched in front of her, light blazing from his headlamp, and tilted his head like he was admiring a piece of art.
“You’re brave,” he’d said. “You did better than most.”
Hearing those words had been worse than the running.
Better than most? He’d done this before. She’d suspected that earlier, but this only confirmed it.
“Why?” Her voice cracked. “Why me?”
She could have been certain he grinned, though she couldn’t see his face.
“I have my reasons,” he murmured.
Then he’d left with a promise he’d be back soon for more.
For Part Two.
Terror shot through her at the thought.
Her bones ached.
Was she getting a fever? That was the last thing she needed. But she wouldn’t be surprised.
There was no comfort to be found in her environment, in her situation.
Yet she’d somehow managed to sleep.
How long, she didn’t know.
But it didn’t matter. Everything still hurt when she woke.
The man took another step into the cabin, his boots thudding against the floorboards. That light was still on, shining in her eyes, obscuring his face.
He stood over her and paused. “Still cold? I keep forgetting how sensitive bodies get after exertion.”
She didn’t answer.
He didn’t seem to notice—or care.
“I’ve been thinking,” he continued chatting as if they were sharing coffee instead of terror. “Yesterday was important and necessary. But today—today’s when the real work begins.”
“What . . . what do you mean?” Her voice came out thin, shredded.
He laughed as if her fear pleased him. “I want to play a new game with you. One you’ll like. I promise.”
Fear shot through her so sharply it made her dizzy. “I don’t like any of this.”
He shrugged. “Oh, well. That’s not the point anyway.”
He crouched in front of her again, too close, the heat of his body cutting through the cold just enough to make her skin prickle. “Don’t worry, Gina. It will all be over soon.”
Her breath hitched.
Over.
The word echoed inside her head, hollow and terrifying.
Over how? As in death? Or as in he’d let her go for real next time?
She feared she knew the answer.