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She cuts me off. “Why haven’t you called the police? Why are you letting them do this to us?”
“I’m trapped here as much as you are,” I admit, then circle a finger around my bruised face. “This is what happened last time I tried to help.”
She huffs in disgust. “You’re not the one getting raped and sold to dirty old bastards though, are you?” she throws back, venom lacing her tone. I don’t blame her. She was kidnapped, abused, raped, and tortured by the man I callFather.All she must see when she looks at me are his eyes.
I pull my knees to my chest and drop my head. It doesn’t matter what I say, she’ll never believe I’m anything more than my father’s daughter. But even though his blood runs through my veins, I know I was meant for more than this.I ammore thanhis daughter. The Santos name may belong to me, but it won’t become my future.
I will escape. I have to.
***
“Hey,” a soft voice whispers against my ear. “Wake up, I think they’re all gone.”
Gone? Who’s gone?“Huh?” I lift my head and rub my eyes. When I blink, everything comes into focus and I remember… the safe room. Gunshots. Footsteps.
“Gone?” I ask, still slightly groggy from sleep. My father would never leave me in this house unattended unless…Is he dead?My first thought is to rejoice, but my second thought is more logical.
I need to get out of here and check the house. See if anyone’s still here.
The door clicks open and without thinking, I grab the girl’s arm and pull her back. “Don’t,” I say. “Someone could be waiting, we need to be careful.”
She nods then asks, “What’s your name anyway?”
“Isadora. Yours?”
She traces her fingers over her bruised wrist. “Allie. So, what’s your plan, Isadora, because if it involves you handing me over to those assholes, I’d rather throw myself out of the closest window.” I almost smile at the fire in her eyes. She’s going to need it if we have any chance of getting out of here.
“I’m not handing you over to anyone.” I assure her. “Let’s just see who’s out there first.” I push open the door and listen for the sounds of footsteps or voices.
Allie places a hand on my back, and we tentatively make our way out of the small safe room and into my walk-in closet. After a few tense minutes of silence, I crack open the closet door and take a step into my bedroom. When I turn to check on Allie,she’s pulling on a pair of my gray track pants, so I point to the drawer and nod to where my t-shirts are.
In my bedroom, nothing is out of place, but an eerie silence hangs in the air. Whoever was here didn’t make it up the stairs, or they were led outside to be slaughtered.
Allie rushes over to the window and peeks through the long, white drapes. “What’s past the trees? Could we get away?” she whispers.
Nodding, I reach for the door handle, my ear pressed against the wood for one breath, then two. Twisting the handle, I slowly pull the door open.
When I take a step forward, my foot hits something solid and I let out a garbled cry before clamping my hand over my mouth. Eyes wide in shock, I stare down at Mathias, one of my father’s henchmen. A single, gunshot wound in the middle of his forehead. His gun is still in his hand, and with my own hands shaking, I reach down and pry the weapon from his grip before checking the safety is off.
Behind me, there’s a gasp.
“Shhh…” I warn.
Gripping the back of my t-shirt, Allie whispers, “Do you know how to use that?
“Please, Daddy, I don’t want to.” I was ten years old and tears streamed down my cheeks as my father held my hands over the gun. He positioned my finger on the trigger and stepped to the side, the barrel was pointed directly at Lady, my golden lab.
“I said shoot!” he commanded.
“No! Daddy, please… don’t make me hurt her.” My begging and pleading fell on deaf ears when he whispered against my ear, “Do it, or I’ll do it for you. And it won’t be painless, daughter.”
I screamed when I pulled the trigger, and when I finally opened my eyes, Lady was gone. My father whistled, and to my horror, the ever-obedient Lady came bounding back from her hiding spot. Her tongue hanging out of her mouth as though this was all a fun game.
“Again,” my father said sternly.
The next hour passed in a blur of tears and broken sobs. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to aim, let alone shoot my beautiful dog.
Furious, my father turned on me and lifted the barrel of the gun to my forehead.
