Page 72 of ’Til You Break

“You’re not getting out of that chair,” he reminds me for the third time tonight. Each warning comes after another attempt to strain against the ropes binding me. Getting free won’t save me immediately. It’ll probably just make them angry.

But waiting for the fire is a far worse fate.

“Where’s your lover, anyway?” Scarface raises an eyebrow, fiddling with his gold-plated lighter. “Thought he’d be storming the gates to get you out of here.”

I remember the sound of metal crunching against metal, and a shudder runs through me.

“He was in a car accident,” I say.

I doubt honesty will change what they’ve got planned for me, but it can’t hurt to try something different.

“I heard it over the phone before you got here. He’s probably dead.”

“Oh.” His nose wrinkles in disappointment. “Pity. He deserved a lot worse than a quick death.”

Disgust churns in my stomach. He’s only saying it to upset me. Making a terrible situation worse because he enjoys having that kind of control.

“But I can’t disappoint the boys.” He reaches out, brushing his fingers along my cheek as a sinister smile replaces the disappointed look on his face. “You’ll have to take his place instead. And I bet you’ll be a lot more fun than the masked lunatic.”

I jerk my head away, straining against the ropes.

I’d bite his hand. Draw blood if I could. But I’m certain it’d earn me a fist to the jaw.

“Speaking of the boys...” Scarface looks towards the hallway leading to Vik’s room. “What the fuck are you doing, Marv?”

There is no answer.

The two men exchange uneasy glances. Scarface signals to the other twin with a flick of his fingers before drawing a revolver. The twin drops the jerry can, pulls his pistol from his waistband and crouches behind the kitchen island.

“Marv, quit your bullshitting,” he calls. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The tension thickens. A second attempt to reach Marv is met with the same silence. Then...

Heavy footsteps echo across the tiled floor.

“Don’t think you’ll be doing that, old son.”

Vik.

The sound of his voice fills me with so much relief I could cry. I look over my shoulder just as he steps into the light. He’s hunched over, one arm locked around the missing twin’s throat. His pistol is pressed firmly against the man’s temple.

“Nobody makes any sudden moves,” Vik says, his eyes drifting from Scarface to the kitchen counter.

“Because I don’t think these walls will look good in red.”

I can’t describe how happy I am to see him. After what I heard over the phone... I was sure he was dead.

But relief lasts only a heartbeat. Vik may have a hostage, but he’s still outnumbered. These men have already proven they don’t care about anything except getting what they want.

“Okay, okay,” Scarface says first. “Let’s all take it easy.”

Vik ignores him.

“Are you okay, Hannah?”

“I am.”

Apart from the rope burns, I’m unharmed.