Ray: ‘Heard you’re on your way back. Proud of you, son.’
“Who’s Ray?” Dax’s voice breathes into my ear, making me jump and shriek in fright. The phone and pill box fall to the floor as I grab my chest, my heart hammering hard enough to go into cardiac arrest with the amount of stress it’s had tonight. Dax apologises with his eyes, bending down the retrieve the items and giving the pills the same suspicious look.
“Ray Perelli, the mob boss has been hunting me.” I manage to say eventually, focusing on my breathing. “I guess we know how they found us.” The words sink in after I say them out loud, the extent of Wyatt’s involvement becoming clear. Meg didn’t sacrifice herself in my place, she was the intended target. They must have known about her since Wyatt arrived here and found out the truth himself. So much for this being a ‘safe’ house, the enemy was down the hall all along.
Fleeing the room, I grab the bags I’d dumped and run downstairs to find Huxley passed out again. Pulling the keys to the Nissan from the hidden drawer under the coffee table, I unlock Huxley’s car with the key fob pointing out the window. The headlights flash as Dax reaches the bottom step, striding straight through the broken front door and pushing his bags into the trunk. After following and stuffing mine in, we silently return to drag Huxley’s dead weight from the house and into the back seat.
Crawling over his body, Huxley mumbles and wiggles as I use the middle strap to secure him in place. Starting to climb back, his arm rounds my waist and crushes me into his body. A tiny frown pulls at my lips as he nuzzles my neck, my hair creating a fan of gold around us. Reaching to cup Huxley’s bruised cheek in my hand, my eyebrows pull together as I inspect to curve to his nose that shouldn’t be there.
“We’re going to get you fixed up, good as new.” My voice makes him smile widely, almost deliriously and I move back and shut him safely inside. The engine roars to life, the headlights on full beam as I move to the passenger seat. Slamming my door shut, my eyes trick me into seeing monsters lurking in the shadows, reaching out towards my window as we begin to creep through the thick forest on the barely visible dirt track. Goosebumps line my skin and I lock my door just in case, forcing myself to stare at the glove box instead until we’re on the main road. The wheels hit the tarmac and a pent-up breath leaves me, although my elation at escaping the forest doesn’t last long. We have no idea where Meg has been taken but I vow to find her, rescue her, and then kill for her.
Meg
My body lurches forward as I’m jolted awake, my stomach rolling with nausea. I shift onto my side, retching loudly, a burn igniting a path from my chest to throat, but nothing comes out. My head is pounding worse than any hangover I’ve ever suffered from, the constant bouncing beneath me not helping one bit. Opening my eyes a little, I hunt for a light to tell me where I am or how I got here. After blinking several times and reaching out to feel the space around me, I’ve come to the conclusion I’m in the trunk of a car. Or in more basic terms, a dark, confined metal box with no way out. Shit.
Full panic mode hits on cue, heat radiating through my thick sweatshirt like a furnace. I smash my fist upwards and scream with all my might, kicking my legs out as far as I can. My hair is plastered to my face, tremors are raking through my spine. I’m punished for every movement I make, my head seizing tightly and tears streaming from my eyes. The pain is unbearable but still doesn’t come close to the turmoil I’m feeling within. Something is so very wrong.
I can’t breathe, the air is thinning and the walls creeping closer to me. I’m going to suffocate on my own fear before I figure out where I am, or if there’s a chance of escaping. Avery’s voice rings through my mind, the soothing words she would say if she were here repeating like a mantra, I cling onto with all my might. “Do nothing but focus on steadying your heartbeat. The breathing will come naturally on its own.”
Flattening onto my back, ignoring the frequent bumps beneath me, I close my eyes and press my hand flat over my heart. My heart is hammering as it tries to break free from my chest, but its strong and that’s what I hold onto. I’m a survivor and I will find a way out of here, but first I need to relax. Keep my head. That’s something I can control right now. The slowing tha-thump beneath my palm resumes its usual pace, my breathing evened out.
In a calmer state of mind, I shift my focus on finding something I can use. The floor beneath my body is a rough type of carpet, but itchier like a worn doormat. I skirt the edges of the material with my fingernails, digging them into the edges and trying to pry them up. Relying on my flexibility from some of
