Chapter 12
TWELVE | TARYN
My fingers ache, but I zone in on the intense feeling of determination bubbling under my skin.
Determination to get out of this house undetected.
Determination to get Rossco and sprint through those trees as fast as my legs can carry me.
Determination to reach the property line.
I pause, picking at the lock. A deal is a deal.
They told me to give them consent to use whatever means they find necessary if they find me. Fear crawls over my skin, feeling like the legs of a thousand spiders tapping against me. But the twinge of excitement that accelerates my breathing is what worries me.
If it weren’t for two hot twins threatening me and keeping me hostage, I’d probably vomit thinking of all the things they could do to me. But the disciplinary methods that flash through my head when I picture them…Yeah, I shouldn’t want to explore that. Not even a little.
But the way their mouths moved mesmerized me.
The way the cords in their arms popped, and muscles tightened, encouraged a faint throb in my core that still lingers.
Even just a simple glance from those pairs of sage green eyes made me feel like they were the snakes slithering through the moss to capture their prey. And I happen to be the target.
I was so entranced by Cameron and Brennan earlier that my head inadvertently nodded before I could thoroughly think straight. Because I wondered what it would be like to be captured by them.
Handled by them.
If the words that emerge from their mouths are so hypnotizing, imagine what their bodies could do to mine.
I shake my head at myself. Focus, Taryn.
My hands move frantically, working the thin piece of long metal through the tiny hole in the doorknob at the base of the stairs.
My pulse jumps unexpectedly. Leaving the wire in place, I flatten my palms on the door and press my ear against the cool surface. Hearing them coming could save me from a very unpleasant interaction if they’re up.
Nobody came to check on me after Jessica left. After she disappeared down those steps, I felt a strong wave of guilt settle over me when I contemplated how rude I had been to her. She tried to be nice, but that doesn’t change the facts.
Since then, I’ve been tearing apart the lampshade, which is lying in pieces on the floor next to the bed.
I paced the room and listened intently, trying to hear and sense any vibrations or noises that drifted through the house.
For the last hour, it’s been dead. Fortunately, the rain has ceased, allowing other sounds to come through clearly, making me fully alert.
A light layer of sticky moisture rests on my skin as my hands return to the doorknob, getting back to work. The scrapes on my fingers from snapping wire into something good enough to pick the lock sting with every move I make.
Come on! This has to work.
Changing the angle, I purse my lips and jiggle it a little more when, finally, a click has my adrenaline bursting.
Closing my eyes, I huff out a breath in relief. Yes.
Bending over, I make sure my shoes are tied, thankful they left them near my bed. Then, slowly, I twist the doorknob and step out silently into the dark hallway.
I have no idea where my phone is, and I have no flashlight, but luckily, little outlet lights are spread out along the base of the hallway, guiding me. Three more closed doors are on this floor, but my eyes are zeroing in on the staircase at the other end of the hallway.
Step by step, one foot is deliberately placed in front of the other. My breath is held in my lungs as if it will make all my other movements lighter.
Please don’t creak. Please don’t creak.
Just as I make it to the top of the stairs, the wood floorboards whine under my weight, and I freeze, waiting to hear footsteps or something, but I don’t.
Taking the stairs, I make my way down one flight.
Turning around the corner to the second, my feet pad quietly but quickly down the next set of stairs and another.
Shit, this house is massive. I don’t pay any attention to the interior, small elements that I pass, or Victorian décor because once I escape, I’m gone.
My next priority is leaving Cedar Creek. After storming out of that job interview, there’s nothing to keep me here.
Nobody will force me to stay here.
When I reach the bottom of the staircase, the foyer with a looming ceiling opens to a living room to the left and an intimidating kitchen to my right. I see the front door, and my nerves and anticipation of getting out of this house carry me toward it.
Reaching for the handle, I stop. Next to the door, against the wall, is a wooden coat rack and storage bench with jackets and sweatshirts.
But what has my feet glued down a little longer than I have time for are the small pairs of shoes.
More specifically, the pink glitter ones reflecting glimmers of light from the patio drifting through the windows.
I shake my head to clear my mind.
Rossco is in the backyard, but I’d rather run around the house through the soft grass than attempt to find the back door and risk being seen or heard.
Flipping the lock, I pull open the door quietly and step out into the cool night air.
It brushes against my clammy skin, covering my body from head to toe in chills.
I may be running all night, but being lost in the orchard or surrounding woods with Rossco sounds better than being trapped in that room.
Run far and fast and pray to God that they don’t know this property as well as they said.
Inching the door closed, I take off down the patio, to the sidewalk, and around the house through the grass. The dew from the earlier rain hangs off the blades, the water already soaking through the fabric of my Nikes.
Rounding another corner, I see him down the short decline, my boy curled up in the wet grass, sleeping next to a water bowl. Reducing my pace, his soft ears perk, and he whips his head up, making eye contact with me.
I can’t help the small smile that lifts my lips. “Hi, boy,” I murmur.
Standing on his feet, his tail thrashes back and forth with excitement.
Delicate whimpering noises reach my ears.
It’s the sound he makes when he hasn’t seen me for a few days, and it accelerates my pulse.
Sprinting toward him, my arms fly around his frame.
My fingers scratch the skin behind his ears to get him to calm down, but his body jerks in my hold.
“Shhhhhh— Shhhh, Rossco,” I whisper, slamming my eyes shut, praying nobody hears him.
Running my hands across his thick coat, it only takes a moment before his whines stop.
The cottage beside us is entirely dark. I hope the monster who’s in there isn’t awake.
That thought alone has me desperately reaching for Rossco’s collar and removing the chain. Once it’s removed, he glances up at me.
“Let’s go,” I whisper, ensuring he’s starting to follow me before I break into a full-out sprint across the yard.
His body bolts in front of mine, and we run.
And run until the expanse of the yard transforms into an expanse of apple trees lined in perfect rows on each side of us.
The crescent moon is the only light penetrating through the branches, their arms with dangling red fruit feeling like long fingers reaching out to keep me captive.
I loved the movie Snow White growing up. I was innocent enough to dwell on the beautiful parts where a girl finds refuge with the dwarves.
They weren’t her family, but they became family.
This feels identical to the forest in the movie.
Shadowy.
Haunting.
The silhouettes around me in every direction are alive, making my skin crawl and burn under the gaze of whatever is watching me.
There may be millions of apples in these trees and crunching beneath my feet, but just like Snow White’s story, none grant wishes. Because the apple in my drink—alongside the poison the twins gave me—had me waking up to a nightmare and not a fucking prince.
My feet pound into the damp earth, and after five minutes of running, I can’t take any more and hunch over, heaving. I’m a good runner, but all around me is the same.
The haunting trees.
The heavy air brings tears to my eyes and burns my lungs.
This orchard is already driving me to the brink of madness, and it will only take a few more steps to shatter any sanity I have left.
I don’t know where we are going or how to get out, but I understand that if we keep running straight for a mile, we’ll eventually reach the edge of the forest.
Maybe letting the forest floor swallow and kill me would be easier.
But life isn’t that kind.
I place my hands on my hips, trying and failing to suck deep breaths into my lungs. Rossco is fifty or so yards ahead of me, and his presence gives me the confidence I need to keep going.
Taking a step, something grabs onto my flannel, jerking my back into a hard wall of muscle.
A piercing scream escapes my lips and echoes through the orchard—the rest drowned out by a large, calloused hand that covers my mouth, silencing me.
I struggle to breathe, the faint scent of oil and dirt from his palm overpowering the musky air.
Just as my brain thinks it’s one of the twins, a gravelly hum emanates from the throat behind me. And it’s not one of theirs. They brush their mouth against the shell of my ear, tsking me. That sound overpowers the thrashing of my heart, increasing the panic.
Although I may have only heard it a few times, I recognize the tone and wish I didn’t.
His laugh warms the nape of my neck. “Where do you think you’re going, Little Ghost?”