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Please God, I’ll do anything. Do not let him lock me in there, not in the dark and the cold. Do not let him lock me in the boot, please, please, please, please.
I prayed to every deity I could think of. I prayed to a God I thought had abandoned me years ago. It didn't matter. I prayed, because I did not want to go in. But he was stronger than I thought, and he grunted as he unlatched me from the back of his neck and used his power to unlock my legs.
When he tossed me unceremoniously into the boot, I pleaded with him, reaching my hands up. "Please, God, I'll do anything, okay? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run. I'm sorry. Please, God, do not lock me in. Please, please, please, don't. Oh my God."
He frowned down at me. His gaze flicked to my wrists, and he winced. "I don't have any other choice. You did this."
Before I knew it, the tears were spilling. "Don't lock me in the boot. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, I'm begging you."
"You should have thought of that before you made your escape. Tell me one fucking thing, is Reginald even still alive?"
My brows lifted. "Reginald? Why would he not be alive? Did something happen to him?"
His brows furrowed. "You're telling me you didn't hurt him to escape?"
I shook my head. "I would never hurt him. Sure, he's helping you keep me against my will, but he's been kind to me. Besides, I don't hurt people. That's your job."
His brows knitted, and I could see my opening. "Please, I'll be good, I swear. Just don't lock me in here."
He scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head as if to clear it. He almost seemed to hesitate. Suddenly, the hint of vulnerability I could have sworn I'd seen just a moment before vanished, and his eyes went cold and flat, a steely gray, no longer looking electric blue. And then he closed me up in the darkness.
22
Drake
I ran into the house, determined to find Reginald first. She said she hadn’t hurt the old man, but history had taught me that people lie.
I didn't have to go far. He was in the kitchen. "Hey, you're back earlier than I thought. I was thinking—” He stopped, eyes going wide when he saw me. “What's the matter?"
I wish I could even explain the relief I felt as the tension melted away. I walked over and wrapped my arms around him. "Bloody hell, I thought you were dead."
He frowned. "What the devil is wrong with you?"
"I… Fucking Daphne. I found her running, and I thought she'd hurt you to escape."
Reginald's face fell. "Daphne's out?"
"Well, she was. Now she’s in the boot of my car."
And then his shock was replaced by horror. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Drake?"
"What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought she hurt you, mate?"
Before I could stop him, he marched out the door, straight to the car. "Open the bloody boot."
"Be careful, because she was kicking and screaming when I put her in there."
He scowled at me. "Have you learned nothing? Of course, she was kicking and screaming when you put her in there. Jesus fucking Christ."
I unlocked the car and the boot popped open. But instead of a kicking and screaming Daphne, we were met by pitiful sobs. Reginald's look of reproach was one I wouldn’t soon forget. He looked disappointed and disgusted with me. When I joined him at the boot of the car, I could see why. Daphne's eyes were red-rimmed. Her face was soaked with tears and snot, and she was curled up in a ball, unmoving except for the excessive shaking caused by her crying.
My gut knotted.
Reginald reached for her, and I batted his hands away. "No, I'll get her."
The knot in my gut only squeezed and tightened as I reached in to lift her. Fuck me. I had more than scared her. She was terrified.
She weighed barely anything as I scooped her in my arms and carried her in the house. I was more aware than ever of her limpness and her blank stare. She wasn't looking at anything. She was done fighting.
