Chapter 33

She had to find a way out of the cell. But how? She rubbed her aching hands, bruised and swollen from fighting to free her leg from the metal ankle band. The sharp edges of the cuff dug into her skin, and blood seeped from her wound. Every time she moved, the chain clunked on the cement floor, reminding her of the hopelessness of her situation.

She’d lost track of time and had no idea how long she’d been in the cold cell. The tiny room didn’t have a window, and the light bulb hanging from the ceiling was always on, glaring in her eyes, making it impossible to tell if it was day or night.

Every inch of her body ached from straining at the metal tether as she searched for escape. Her throat was raw from screaming and calling for help, even though she knew it was hopeless and no one heard her pleas.

She sank onto the floor and once again gave in to tears. There was no escape. Not from this room. Not unless she dug through solid cement with her fingernails. Her bruised hands, with their dirty, broken nails throbbed, a testament to her frantic efforts.

The only way out of the room was if by some miracle, she overpowered her captor. She tugged the chain tethering her to the wall like a dog. But then what? She still had to break free of the damn shackle. She didn’t have a weapon, unless she could wrap the plastic hose around his neck and beat him over the head with the metal chair. Picking up an empty plastic water bottle, she tossed it across the room. It hit the wall and bounced on the floor.

The clang of the bolt sliding free jolted her out of her misery. She jerked up, her back pressed against the wall, fear icing her heart.

The door swung open, and the bearded man stepped into her cell. “Wakey, wakey, Candy Girl.”

His cruel gaze met hers, and she swallowed back another sob. She’d be damned if she’d let him see her cry.

He tsked. “You’ve been a naughty girl. I’ve heard you yelling for help.” He grabbed her sore hands and squeezed. “You don’t really think you can escape, do you? These walls are thick. Whoever dug this old root cellar knew what they were doing.”

A bolt of agony shot through her as his fingers dug into her raw wounds. She bit her lip to stop a scream, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

He tutted again and released her.

Before she recovered her breath, he drew his foot back and kicked her. Hard. The pain in her hip took her breath away. She cowered on the floor, covering her head with her hands, tears burning her eyes.

He slammed his boot-clad foot into her thigh again.

She couldn’t hold back the scream as agony ripped through her. Another blow and another, until she was sobbing, pleading for him to stop, begging for the pain to ease.

The blows ended as suddenly as they began.

Pain roared through her like a freight train. She sucked in a shaky breath and bit back a moan. Her chest was on fire. Every breath was like a knife stabbing. Had he broken her rib?

“That’s what happens when you’re a bad girl.” Beads of sweat glistened on his brow as he towered over her, his arms crossed over his massive chest, a look of smug satisfaction on his brutish face.

She wiped the snot and saliva from her face. “What do you want with me? Are you going to kill me? Is that it? Is that why you kidnapped me?”

He stared at her for a long time. “I think you know, Candy Girl. Oh, yes. I think you do.”

She shook her head and instantly regretted the movement, as a tsunami of pain radiated from her rib through her body. The room dimmed, and blinding shards of light flashed. She sagged against the cold wall, her body limp. She was done fighting, done struggling, done trying to escape. She couldn’t take any more pain. All she wanted was blessed oblivion.

Her captor’s cruel laughter filled the small room and followed her into the darkness.

****

“Rise and shine.”

The rough, taunting voice pierced her brain, and she groaned and burrowed deeper into sleep.

A hand grabbed her shoulder, nails digging into her bruised muscles, and someone shook her.

Consciousness returned, and she lurched up, a wave of pain flooding her. Her chest was on fire, every breath an agony. “Wha…”

“Come on, sleepyhead, wake up.” He shook her again.

And just like that, the nightmare returned. “Please don’t hurt me.” The whine in her voice disgusted her, but she didn’t want him to hit her again, wasn’t sure she could handle any more torture.

“Hurt you?” He crouched before her. “I don’t want to hurt you, Candy Girl.”

His dark eyes glinted with a manic madness that terrified her.

He shrugged off a black canvas bag strapped across his chest and removed two plastic water bottles and a granola bar. “Can’t have my Candy Girl going hungry, can I?” He dropped the bottle and granola bar at her feet. “Eat up. You’re going to need your strength.”

She didn’t move, couldn’t budge an inch. Her body was too sore, her spirit shattered.

He nudged her leg with his booted foot. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

She tensed, preparing for more blows, but a spark of dignity remained in her soul, and she glared, putting all her loathing into her scowl. “Go screw yourself.”

He shook his head and tutted. “Now, that’s not smart. Not smart at all.” Jumping to his feet, he booted her in the thigh.

She screamed at the white flash of searing pain.

He loomed over her, his eyes piercing. “Now, say thank you like a good girl.”

She shook her head, refusing to play his sick games.

“Woo hoo.” He slapped his hands on his thighs and grinned. “I knew you’d be a challenge. That’s why Father chose you.”

“Wha-what?”

“You didn’t know?” He chuckled. “You were the Chosen One. Your sister wasn’t supposed to be taken that night. You were.” His smile broadened, exposing his too-white teeth.

The air in her lungs exploded out of her mouth in a loud gasp. “Me? What are you talking about?”

“Father watched you for months. He went to your house that night to collect you, but your sister woke up and ruined his plans. He had to take her instead.”

A prickle of sweat broke out under her arms. “You’re Isaiah’s son?”

He hooked his thumbs into his pants pockets and puffed out his chest. “The lightbulb finally goes on.”

“Is… Charlene…is she alive?”

“Come on. You can’t be that stupid.”

Her fight drained, and she collapsed on the floor. A sob tore at her throat. Charlene was dead. Gone. Had been for years. And now Isaiah’s son had Candace. Would this nightmare ever end? “What do you want with me?”

“You don’t know?” He arched his dark brows.

She shook her head. “No.”

His smirk widened, and he laughed again.

“What’s so funny?”

“You.” He spit the word out between giggles. “You have all those fancy degrees, but you don’t know shit.” He huffed out a breath. “Let me ask you a question—why do you think you were chosen?”

Fear rippled beneath her skin like a serpent. “I—” She struggled to swallow over the stone clogging her throat. “—I don’t know.”

“Because you look just like her.”

“Like whom?”

“Mother.” His eyes took on a faraway look, and he smiled. “You all look like her.” He leaned closer and smoothed his large hand over her braid, toying with the dark hair. “She had pretty hair, just like yours. And her eyes were the same shade of blue.”

He turned and strode toward the door, wrenched it open, and left without another word.

The door slammed closed, and the lock slid into place.