Page 25 of Love You To Pieces

“And Pearl’s fine.” The relief from his words unclench an invisible fist from around my heart, letting me finally breathe normally.

“How do I know you aren’t lying?” The words leave me before I can stop them, but I remind myself it’s a valid question.

“You don’t.” His smile turns just as sly as Deacon’s, though cheeky instead of taunting. “You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

“Oh, yeah?” I try to rip free of his grip, but Fox’s fingers tighten again, sending a wave of fear through my veins. “Why the hell would I just believe you?”

“Well…” Arms close around my shoulders from behind, and Deacon is suddenly there, his chest against my back and his face pressed close to my own. “It seems to me, Sadie-Rae, that we aren’t giving you much of a choice, are we?” Without another word he suddenly picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder while I yelp and shriek my protests.

“Put me down!” I wail, flailing and grabbing for something, anything I can reach.

“Nah,” Deacon chuckles. His steps toward the door are unhurried, and Fox picks up the knife before following. “Like I said, darling. You won’t enjoy where I put you this time, but don’t blame me…” His hand moves to grip my thighs, while the other arm is like a steel band around my calves to prevent me from kicking him.

“You did this to yourself.”

CHAPTER NINE

Iscream and kick at him the entire way back to the house. My palms are burning and aching, and I can see blood seeping through the bandages, as the cut on my upper arm protests with sharp twinges of pain. With his arm like a steel band around my calves, kicking out at Deacon quickly becomes a fond memory. Instead, all I can do is shove up, away from his shoulder, though I never make it far before I lose my balance and slam back down.

It doesn’t take an idiot to realize I’m only tiring myself out, but the spike of fear and adrenaline keeps me going, and I shriek in his ear every chance I get. Fox is gone, though I don’t know where to, and when the back door opens, Deacon turns so fast I nearly bang my head on the doorframe.

“Fucking watch it!” I gasp, barely managing not to give myself a concussion.

“Poor thing.” There’s no pity in his voice, and his hand runs up my leg, stroking my thigh, before moving right back down to cage my legs against him before I can take advantage of his movement.

His steps on the floor are quiet, way quieter than they should be, and I wonder why I hadn’t heard him come up to the shed outside, or noticed him following me. Trying to kick out again, I shrug off the worry. That he’s practiced in the art of stalking is not a train of thought that’s going to help me at the moment. Instead, I lunge outward with both arms, my hands gripping the doorframe and digging my fingers in.

Deacon slows, then comes to a stop when he feels the resistance from my desperate grip. A sigh leaves his chest, long-suffering and frustrated, and his hand once again wanders up my thighs. “Let go, pretty rabbit,” he warns quietly. “Now. Your hands are already torn up enough as it is, and we both know that grip isn’t saving you from anything.”

“No.” My fingers scrabble for a better purchase, and I manage to hook my fingers around the latch on the side of the frame. “No. If you don’t⁠—”

“Suit yourself.” He jerks forward, ripping my hands free and pulling a yelp from my throat. I cry out at the sudden pain in my hand and pull it to my chest as it throbs.

“Fuck you!” I snarl. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

He snorts. “I warned you. And I’m too tired to put up with your escape attempts and whatever else this is supposed to be.” A door opens, and I hear the click of a light before he moves again, though this time he’s going down a flight of stairs instead of staying on the main level of the house.

My heart suddenly races and I grab at his shirt; the pain in my finger from whatever I did on the doorframe shoots up to my brain. “N-no, wait!” I can’t help but flash back to the last basement I was in, and I’m suddenly terrified of ending up in another auto shop-turned-slaughterhouse. “No, please! Jus-just wait! Don’t take me downstairs, please!”

He pauses on the stairs, and I can almost feel him contemplating. His hand on my calves soothes along them, almost like he’s trying to reassure me, before Deacon lets out a quick huff. “Sorry, Sadie-Rae.” Fuck, he doesn’t sound sorry at all. “You had your chance to behave.” His steps pick up again, though they’re silent under my howls of fear that echo in the claustrophobic space.

Finally he hits level ground, and while it feels like we were descending forever, when I manage to look up from his shoulder, I see that it’s only a normal staircase with a red door open at the top, and a bulb swaying from the ceiling, unreliably illuminating the wooden steps. There’s no smell of blood or decay, thank goodness, and when he turns, I’m able to see what looks like a mostly normal basement.

“Pearl!” I gasp, my hands reaching outward toward her. “Pearl!” Surely she can help me. She did it before. She helped me kill a man.

She gets to her paws, her short fur standing on end as she growls a low warning. My heart lifts as I watch her trot over to us, and for a moment, I think that my prayers have been answered.

At least until she hits the edge of the chain she’s on and is forced to retreat a few steps, with a frustrated whine in her throat. It’s only then that I see bandages wrapped around one front leg and her neck, along with the white cream coating her ear.

Did they help her?

“Can you not rile her up?” A door opens amidst Deacon’s sigh. “I’d like her to eat and get more rest. She got pretty banged up at that auto shop, you know.”

“She…was?” How had I missed that? Sure, I saw the torn ear and the blood around her ruff, but she seemed fine otherwise. “Because of me?” The words spill out before I can stop them, along with a dreadful sense of guilt that sits heavy in my chest.

“No.” Deacon’s tone is decisive. “Not unless you kicked her hard enough to crack a few ribs.”

“Fuck.” I’m quiet for a few moments, at least until another door opens. “Hey! Where—” I lash out, grabbing for the doorframe, kicking once again, but Deacon isn’t having it. With his foot, he kicks the door shut, eliciting a yelp of surprise from me, then sets me down quickly enough that I stumble and fall to my knees on the rug covering the concrete floor.