Chapter 29 #2
Still fine. Chester and I are watching terrible daytime TV. Did you know there's a show about people who marry inanimate objects? I have so many questions.
Connor
I didn’t need to know that. Don't let Chester get any ideas about the furniture. Be back in an hour.
We'll be here. Unless Chester proposes to the couch, then all bets are off.
I was reaching for the remote to change channels from the woman on screen explaining her deep emotional connection to the Eiffel Tower in disturbing detail that suggested therapy might be beneficial, when Chester's ears perked up.
His head swiveled toward the back of the house, toward the back door.
Then he whined. That particular whine that meant he needed to go outside.
“Really? Again?” But I was already standing, moving toward the back door. “Fine. But make it quick because this show is getting weirdly compelling.”
The back door was at the end of the hallway, opening into a small mudroom with hooks for coats and a bench for removing muddy boots. It led directly to the fenced area where Chester usually did his business, private and secure and exactly the kind of space Connor had approved for me to use.
I unlocked the three locks on the door that Connor had installed and pushed it open. Late morning sunshine spilled into the mudroom, warm and inviting. Chester ran out immediately, heading for his favorite spot near the fence line.
I stood in the doorway watching him with the door propped open with my hip, breathing in the fresh air that smelled like pine and grass and the distant scent of horses.
Chester circled his spot once, twice, then squatted. I looked away to give him privacy which was ridiculous since he was a dog and didn't care, but it felt polite. That's when I heard it.
A sound from inside the house. A floorboard creaking in the kitchen where no one should be.
My blood turned to ice, my heart stopping completely before kick-starting with the kind of violence that made my chest hurt.
Shit.
I spun around, every instinct screaming that something was wrong. The kitchen looked exactly as I'd left it after I had finished cleaning earlier.
But I'd heard something. I knew I'd heard—
Chester's bark shattered the moment. It was sharp, aggressive, nothing like his usual friendly golden retriever sounds. I turned back to see him at the fence line, hackles raised, teeth bared, barking at something in the trees.
“Chester, come!” My voice came out sharp with fear. “Chester, inside now!” But he kept barking, his whole body was rigid, warning me, protecting me from whatever he'd seen.
I stepped out of the mudroom onto the small porch and my eyes scanned the tree line. But I saw nothing. Just trees, shadows and—
Movement.
A flash of dark clothing between the pines. There one second, gone the next.
Fuck. Someone's out there.
“Chester!” I called again, panic making my voice shrill. “Chester, come here right now!”
He finally turned, finally started trotting back toward me, and I reached for him, ready to haul him inside and slam the door and call 911 and Connor.
Until a hand clamped over my mouth from behind. And then an arm wrapped around my waist, lifting me off my feet, pulling me backward into the house.
No no no no—
I tried to scream but the hand muffled everything. So then I tried to fight but whoever held me was stronger, bigger, their grip like iron around my body.
The baby.
The thought gave me strength I didn't know I had, made me fight like a cornered animal. I twisted violently, managing to sink my teeth into the hand covering my mouth. Tasted blood and heard a male curse and recognized it through my terror as Armand.
“Fucking bitch—”
The hand released my mouth and I screamed—loud, piercing, and desperate. “HELP! SOMEONE HELP—”
A second person appeared at the edge of the house, jumping over the short fence from the woodline and making his way swiftly to the mudroom. Silas, his face cold and professional like kidnapping was just another Tuesday.
Chester was barking frantically outside, his sounds closer now, and I heard the crash of his body hitting the door they must have closed, trying to get to me.
“No,” I thrashed harder, my hands clawing at Armand's arms, my feet kicking backward. “Please, I'm pregnant! Please don't—”
“Should've thought of that before you interfered,” Silas said, his voice emotionless as he stepped closer with a cloth that was soaked in something.
I twisted away from it and managed to get one arm free and swung wildly. My fist connected with Silas's jaw. Not hard enough to do real damage but enough to surprise him enough to where the cloth fell from his hand.
Yes! Take that you psycho—
The back door burst open in a crash and I heard Chester’s snarls before I felt Armand's grip loosen slightly as eighty pounds of furious golden retriever launched himself at my attacker.
“Get the fucking dog!” Armand's voice was panicked now.
I used his distraction to wrench free, stumbling forward, my hand already reaching for my phone in my pocket. I just needed to get to it, needed to call 911.
Silas grabbed my hair, yanking me backward so hard I saw stars before his arm wrapped around my throat. Not choking but controlling, and I heard Chester's yelp of pain behind me.
“No! Don't hurt him! Please—” Tears streamed down my face as I heard another thud, another yelp, the sounds of Armand kicking my dog.
“Should've stayed out of our business,” Silas said quietly, and then the chemical-soaked cloth was over my face, pressed tight against my nose and mouth.
I tried not to breathe, to fight, to stay conscious.
But my lungs burned and my body betrayed me, one involuntary gasp and the world started spinning.
My legs gave out but Silas held me up and kept the cloth pressed to my face even as I stopped fighting.
The hallway blurred at the edges, colors bleeding together.
I felt the sensation of movement as hands grabbed me. The door was still open, and I could hear Chester whimpering. The world tilted sideways. Or maybe I was being carried. I couldn’t tell anymore. I couldn’t focus on anything except the baby.
Please don't let them hurt the baby. Darkness creeped in at the edges and started to take over. The last thing I heard before consciousness left completely was Armand's voice, rough with exertion.
“Boss is going to be pleased we finally got her.”
Then nothing.
Just darkness and the terrifying realization that I'd failed.
Failed to stay safe. Failed to protect myself. Failed to protect the baby growing inside me.
Failed Connor who'd begged me to be careful.
I'm sorry. And then even those thoughts dissolved into nothing as the drug pulled me under completely, and I knew nothing at all.