She gagged. The horror of the memories rushing at her after being buried for so long was more than Ellie could bear. They were still scattered snippets, but with every breath and every word he spoke, the darkness was peeled away to reveal more.
She nodded, taking a step toward the display of torture devices.
“That’s a good girl,” he cooed. “Already choosing more wisely than the last time.”
Anger boiled in her veins, but when the next click came from the general vicinity of his hand instead of across the room, relief spread through her. He’d used the remote to stop the timer. It was a short reprieve, but it was something.
Buying time, she pretended to consider each item, circling the table that held the steel surgical tray with her arms loose at her sides. “Which would you choose?” Her voice was hollow, the words disjointed and emotionless to her own ears. Would he fall for it?
But the master stood a little straighter, intrigued by her question. He took a step closer. The light spread up his body, stopping mid-chest, leaving his face obscured. Hands behind his back, he leaned in to get a good look.
Ellie held her breath, squinting into the darkness as the light spread higher and stopped at his collarbone. So close, but the master knew what he was doing.
“If you start with small cuts, our time together will last longer.” He shrugged and stepped forward a half step. “Maybe that will give you hope she’ll survive long enough for you both to be rescued. This is always more fun when my puppets have hope.”
My puppets.
Ellie forced away the chill that spread through her. Puppets. Toys. Nothing more than strings and joints to be manipulated for his pleasure.
She nodded, holding her hands so they hovered a few inches above the spread of tools he’d so carefully selected and displayed.
His breath quickened, the suspense building his excitement. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that he’d taken another step, so close to revealing his face as the light reached his chin.
She reached for the corkscrew, froze an inch from it, as if indecisive, listening for his reaction in the eerie stillness that surrounded them. Flexing her fingers, she moved her hand again, this time stopping above a long steel rod-like skewer with a wooden handle.
The master sucked in a quick breath, so eager for her to make her choice that he took another step. He was only a couple yards away now.
She touched the stun gun, wishing with every fiber of her being that it was a taser so she could turn it on him, fire up his ass. She picked it up, considering. A stun gun would hurt Jillian terribly, but it wouldn’t leave any permanent damage.
“Is that your selection?”
Instead of answering, Ellie frowned and pretended to put the stun gun down. At the last second, she threw it with all of her might, straight toward the bastard’s head. While he was busy ducking the device, Ellie grabbed the short side of the tray with both hands and spun, swinging it as hard as she could at the master’s face. Tools flew everywhere, into his face before skittering and bouncing across the floor as the tray connected with flesh and hit bone with a sickening crack.
He shrieked in pain, stumbling backward with the remote still in his hand.
Before he could fight back, Ellie swung again, angling the tray this time so the edge caught his cheek with the force of the blow.
He dropped the remote as he retreated, the heel of his boot coming down on the thin plastic device and crushing it beneath his weight before Ellie could scoop it up. Frantic, she turned toward Jillian just as the mechanism lowered the weight again, the rope snug enough to dent the delicate skin of her neck.
The master screamed in pain, hands over his face, blood flowing between his fingers. He was fully in the light now, but the blood covering his damaged face hid any features that would’ve been recognizable behind the broken nose and the huge gash in his cheek held together with bloody fingers.
Their eyes met before he turned and ran for the door, leaving her with two choices. Chase him or save Jillian. She couldn’t do both.
Jillian’s strangled cry spurred her into action. Grabbing the pruning shears from the floor, she leaped a small pool of blood, afraid she might slip and waste valuable seconds.
The weight lowered again, cutting off Jillian’s cry for help and leaving her gurgling, desperate for air.
Ellie raced across the space that separated them, spreading the handle wide and aiming for the length of rope above Jillian’s head.
The surgically sharpened blade touched the rough fibers of the thick cord.
She closed the handles with all her might.
Click.
27
The shears sliced through the rope like warm butter, throwing Ellie off-balance and sending the tail end of the cord snapping into the air. The tool clattered in all directions, followed by the crash of the huge weight as it struck the floor, shattering the concrete. Long fissures spread outward from the point of impact, now a crater.
Jillian’s head fell forward, but the rope was still pulled tight, cutting off her air. She pulled at her wrist bindings, unable to help herself.
Ellie’s shaking fingers worked at the slip knot, yanking the rope several times before it finally loosened.
Her friend dragged a loud breath in, choking on a sob. Blinking rapidly, her head tilted forward as if it was too heavy for her neck to hold.
Ellie knelt so she was eye level with her, her hand on Jillian’s knee. Her friend’s gaze was distant and unfocused even though Ellie was less than a foot away. “You’ve been drugged.”
She gave a slight nod in response. Blinking rapidly, their eyes met, and Jillian’s held a glimmer that hadn’t been there before. Her cracked lips parted, and she whispered, “You came.”
Ellie nodded, putting her forehead to Jillian’s. “I wouldn’t leave you alone.”
The cold
