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He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly and answers, “It could go either way.”
54
Chapter Fifty Four
Andreas
The garage is a silent block of darkness. Frantically, I bring my hand to feel the back of my head. A blow from the meat tenderizer left a deep, painful gash, and blood steadily seeps from the wound and down the back of my shirt. With effort, I shift against the wall in search of a more comfortable position, each movement sending a fresh wave of agony through my body.
A muffled scream echoes into the garage from the main part of the house, and my heart thuds against my ribcage.Alana.He’s in there with her now. The icy chain that’s wound tightly around my ankle bites into my skin. I try to pull it away, but it’s impossible and doesn’t budge. I recall that during the beating; I had reached out in desperation and grabbed a necklace from my attacker’s throat. Dangling from the necklace was a set of keys, at least one of which must be the key to unlock my shackle. Instinctively, my hands probe along the dirty floor.
After several minutes of searching, my fingertips connect with a delicate chain, but the keys are no longer connected. I continue sliding my fingers around on the floor, and gasp when I feel a key right at the edge of my reach. Careful not to push it further away, I inch it closer millimeter by millimeter. I grab the key and attempt to insert it into the lock. My shoulders sag and I growl in frustration when it doesn’t fit.
There has to be a use for it if he had it around his neck, so instead of dropping it on the ground, I slide it into my back pocket. I continue searching, and minutes later, my fingertips graze something cold and smooth. Drawing it closer, I realize it’s the meat tenderizer. I grip it tightly in my hand as I attempt to use it to break the lock off my ankle. The hard metal hits the lock three, four, five times, but the dense metal doesn’t show signs of breaking. I slide the heavy object underneath my body so I don’t lose it and continue searching for the key. Crawling around on all fours as far as my chain will allow, I scour every inch of floor space within my reach. I’m about to give up hope when my fingers brush across something small: a second key.
My hands shake as I grasp the key in my sweat-slicked hands. As gingerly as possible, I insert the end into the lock and twist. Time seems to stand still until I hear the tumblers move. With a faint click, the top of the padlock opens, and I lift the weight of the shackle from my ankle with a sigh of relief.
My relief is short-lived though, because as I stand up from my spot on the floor, I hear a loud and violent thump come from inside the house. I lean down and grab the tenderizer before I creep closer to the door that leads into the house. I feel my way along the wall and use the smallest sliver of moonlight coming through the small window as my guide. I reach the door and find the doorknob.
Nausea threatens to overtake me as I brace myself for whatever I’m about to find on the other side of the door. The knob turns quietly, and the door lets out a small creak as it opens. Peering through the crack, my eyes settle on a kitchen in disarray. Dirty dishes are piled high in the sink, food and pots and pans are scattered across the countertop, and the cabinets are open to reveal the contents inside. The smell of freshly grilled meat wafts into my nostrils and turns my stomach.
But there’s no sign of Alana or that fucking psycho. Just as I’m about to walk into the kitchen, I hear Alana’s voice call out, “Darien, you don’t want me dead.”
I strain to hear the rest of the conversation. Darien maniacally laughs, then responds, “Of course not. I just said that. All you have to do is behave, and everything will be fine.”
I open the door further and notice they must be in the hallway right outside the kitchen, but I can’t see them from where I’m standing.
I stealthily sneak further into the kitchen and look for a more useful weapon. I say a silent thank you when I see a butcher’s knife lying on top of a cutting board next to the sink and pause as I reach out to grab it.
I hear Alana ask, “Is Andreas alive?”
My hand curls around the plastic handle of the butcher’s knife, and I grin.
I sure fucking am, and we’re gonna get out of here.
I have no idea what’s happening in the next room, so I need to come up with a plan. As of right now, it doesn’t sound like Alana’s being hurt, so I need to be smart and patient, wait for exactly the right moment to take him by surprise.
I put my back against the doorway next to the corridor they’re in and listen as heavy footsteps make their way down a groaning stairway.
I flinch at the closeness of his voice as Darien orders, “Stand the fuck up and walk back up the stairs.”
I listen for their steps to ascend the creaking wooden staircase and, once I’m sure they’re out of earshot, tiptoe silently out into the long hallway. Alana and Darien are gone, leaving me alone in the dimly lit hallway. From where I’m standing, I can see a living room that hasn’t seen updates since the eighties. A large sofa sits on one side of a broad coffee table littered with plates, glasses, and newspapers. Two armchairs sit next to a fireplace that looks like it hasn’t been used in years, and an old-fashioned box TV sits in the center of the room.
I jump back and wield the knife over my head when a loud screeching sound begins behind me, and I turn to see a massive grandfather clock sounding the hour. I silently chastise myself for being so jumpy, then look around for a phone or computer. I need to get help before I try to overtake Darien. Coming up empty, I move back into the hallway and try to search the other two rooms, only to find they’re locked.
Wincing, I clench my broken fist and sigh, frustration mounting. I check the windows, then the front and back doors, but they’re all securely locked with padlocks. I unclench my fist, releasing the worn metal key that had been in my pocket—it hadn’t worked for anything. With no other options, I move back to the living room to formulate a plan. I know that if things don’t go according to plan, I may not make it out of here alive. I mentally prepare myself for battle as every muscle in my body tightens with anticipation. The pain from the beating I had taken in the garages radiates throughout my body, but I ignore it and press forward.
I approach the ancient stairs the two had disappeared up just moments before, and I pause to listen for voices. The house is eerily silent, and I take that as a good sign. There hadn’t been screaming or gunshots, so Alana must still be alive for the time being. I grab the railing and step as lightly as possible on the bottom step, careful not to draw attention to myself. The step creaks slightly, and I hope Darien is too busy to hear me.
Slowly, I make my way to the top of the staircase. I glance around nervously, but I don’t see Alana or Darien. There are multiple rooms up here, but the doors are all closed. I have no way of knowing which room they’re in, so I stand silently and try to listen for a sign. It’s then that I hear a man’s voice quietly humming from behind one of the closed doors.
I can’t just barge through; what if it’s locked? He has a shotgun, and I have a kitchen knife. The fight would be over before it began. I walk toward one of the other closed doors, and when it opens, I see it’s a small bathroom. I hunker down in the tub to give myself a few minutes of time to formulate a game plan. It’s then that the screaming begins.
55
Chapter Fifty Five
Alana
