by Nicole Helm
Zach was right. It burned, but Zach was right. The minute Ty stepped foot in that cabin, Jen was in at least twice as much danger. Which meant he had to do something that went against every fiber of his being.
He had to trust someone else with Jen’s safety. He had to put it all in someone else’s hands. He had to trust, and he had to believe, in someone aside from himself—not just Zach, but Jen, too.
Guilt told him this was all his fault and he should take responsibility for it. Guilt told him he couldn’t let Zach get even more hurt when this was Ty’s own fight.
But Jen... Here, in that cabin, she’d forgiven him everything—his faults, his choices, the things he’d done or not done. Everything he’d hated himself for, she’d washed away with forgiveness. And she always had.
She’d told him to let it go, to forgive himself, and he had tried, or had believed he might someday. But in this moment, he had to. Because if he didn’t, Jen would more than likely die.
“You’ll go in,” Ty said, having no trouble snapping into army ranger mode. “There’s a secret passageway on the opposite side of the cabin, but it’s been sealed. Still, with the right timing, the right tools, you can either unseal it or create enough noise he comes out.”
Zach nodded.
“If I situate myself in the hayloft, I’ve got the perfect position to pick him off if he comes out the door.”
Zach rose an eyebrow and nodded toward Ty’s foot. “How you going to get up there?”
“Carefully,” Ty replied. Zach held out the gun Ty had given him and Ty took it. “You’ll be unarmed.”
“You’re better off with the gun. You can pick him off through a window, we end this. Besides, he took my gun and my phone, but I’ve still got my knife.” Zach motioned to his boot. “Vanessa gave me that idea.”
“Thank God for Vanessa and her arsenal. Let’s go.” He motioned Zach to follow him back into the woods. Zach offered an arm, but Ty shook his head. Walking hurt like nothing he’d ever experienced, but Jen’s life hung in the balance. He’d deal.
They moved through the cover of the trees to the opposite side of the cabin. Braxton couldn’t know he was out here and free, or Jen and Zach were in even more danger.
Ty moved up the side of the cabin and showed Zach the secret passage and where it had been sealed.
Zach pulled out the knife. “This should do the trick. If not, I’ll start banging away, try to lure him out.”
Ty nodded. “I doubt he knows who you are, so hurting Jen to get to you won’t matter to him, hopefully. He might think you’re of some emotional connection to me, though. He might even know you’re my cousin, my blood. So he could hurt you again, to get to me. We can’t discount that.”
“Yeah, I haven’t let a man best me twice in this lifetime. I don’t plan to start now.”
“That’s the Carson spirit.” Ty studied the clearing, the cabin. “I’ll be in the hayloft, out of sight, but if you get him out the front door, I can take him out. Jen’s the priority.”
Zach nodded, already prying at the seal on the door. “You should get out of sight now. I’ll see what I can do here, but no matter what, I’ll get her out. That’s a promise.”
Like Jen had chosen to forgive him, love him, Ty chose to believe Zach. He clapped him on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself, cousin.” And then he limped for the stables, gun at the ready.
* * *
BLOOD AND TEARS, but Ty wasn’t here. Should he kill her and then bring Ty to the aftermath? Better for him to watch. He’d get the blood, and the revenge. Oscar wanted the revenge. He wanted the blood.
But she was right there and all it would take was a few minutes. He could cut her to ribbons and it would be done. Right now. No more waiting.
Why did he have to wait?
“Braxton, I know you want to hurt me...”
Her voice was so sweet he wished she’d stop talking. It wasn’t like the doctor’s voice. The doctor had always been so cold. So condescending. Jen sounded afraid of him.
He liked that.
“Could you let me out of this thing? I don’t care if you tie me up again. I just can’t lie like this.”
He walked back over to her. She wanted out, and maybe that would suit his purposes. Maybe a little fight would make this all sit right. He’d had to fight the doctor. Element of surprise, yes, but she’d tried to push him off.
He’d liked that. The way she’d hit and begged and still he’d plunged the knife into her skin.
His stomach jumped with anticipation, even more so when Jen’s fear shone in her eyes like tears.
“You want out?”
She swallowed visibly. “Just a little? I know you have to keep me tied up, but if I could just move a little. My circulation and I... I...”
Desperation. He liked it on her. Fear and desperation. It was what he wanted from Ty, but maybe he’d practice on sweet Jen. He held the knife over her head again, watched as she squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for another cut.
The one from before was just a little dot now, a little smear of blood and tears down her cheek and chin.
Pleasure spurted through him, dark and wonderful. If only this moment could last.
“Cut yourself,” he said.
“What?”
He liked the way she paled. Fear. He liked her fear so much. It was better than a shot of whiskey. Better than the drugs Oscar had liked so much that Braxton had never understood.
Why do drugs when you could make someone afraid? When the power of that could stir everything inside you?
“I’ll free one arm. If you take the knife and cut yourself. More than I did on your face.” He wondered if it would be more or less satisfying to watch her cause herself pain, or if it would be better for him to do it. Her hurting herself would cause Ty more pain, he thought, but the blood on her face made him wonder if he cared. “Maybe your wrist. It’d take a while for one wrist to bleed out.”
“But...”
“One wrist. Then I decide if I do the rest, or you do. One wrist. Then we get Ty. I’d like to get a better look at Ty’s blood, too. Maybe so would you.”
“Braxton—”
He laid the flat of the blade against her cheek. “Sweet Jen didn’t do anything to deserve this, but you love a monster. Maybe you’re a monster, too. Monsters need to bleed, Jen. Isn’t that what all the fairy tales tell us?”
But she didn’t answer. She only cried.
Chapter Eighteen
Jen would scold herself for crying later. For now, it was the release of fear she’d needed to center herself. “Okay, Braxton,” she said, opening her eyes and making sure to look at him, to try to be a person to him. “I’ll cut my wrist if you let me have one arm.”
One arm would be all she’d need. There was a pistol in the cushion of the couch, unless he’d found it when she’d been unconscious. But she’d take the chance—had to.
Zach and Ty were stuck and she had to be able to save herself, and them.
Braxton could hurt her, would hurt her, but as long as he didn’t kill her she had a shot. And he wouldn’t kill her as long as Ty was somewhere else, so there was some bright side to his being stuck.
She just needed to get to that gun, and she just needed it to be there. One arm. All she needed was one arm. Didn’t matter if she had to cut herself to do it.
She breathed in and out, trying to accept the fact she would have to do it. She’d have to cut her own flesh and...
She had to convince him to free her arm first. She had to actually get him to do it before she worried about pressing a sharp blade to her wrist.
An involuntary shudder moved through her, but she forced herself to look at Braxton and tried to treat him like a human being even though whatever made someone humane was clearly missing in him.
“I’ve killed before, Jen, you know,” he said, so s
imply, so conversationally the way you’d tell someone you didn’t care for pizza. He stared at her intently, looking for a reaction.
She didn’t know what kind he wanted. If she did, she’d act it out and give it to him. She’d go along with whatever he wanted. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry?”
It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but what was? What could she say to just make him untie her?
No time for panic. Breathe in. Breathe out. As long as Ty isn’t here, you have time.
But did Ty have time? Did Zach?
She couldn’t think about them.
“Are you going to let me go? Please? I’m going to have a panic attack.”
He laid the flat of his blade against her cheek like he’d done before, and again she couldn’t hide her response. A shudder, a wince and more tears welling behind her eyelids.
She opened her eyes when he did nothing. He was grinning. Finally, it started to make sense. He wanted her to be afraid. He wanted her to shudder and wince at the idea of his killing people, over the idea and possibility he could kill her.
“Panic attack. I might like to watch that.”
He was never going to let her go. He was going to torture her until... When?
“But I’d like to see your blood more,” he continued. He pressed the knife against her cheek until she hissed out a breath when it lightly scored her chin.
He leaned in closer, his face so close to hers she could feel his breath against the blood dripping down her neck.
“Please let me out,” she whispered, letting her fear and her tears run free, since that’s what he wanted from her anyway. Fear and tears and blood. “Please. I just need to sit up or move my arm. Please. Anything.”
He didn’t lean away, though he did pull the knife off her skin. But then he replaced it with something much worse.
His tongue.
A groan mixed with a scream tore from her throat as she struggled to move her face, her body, her entire being away from him as he licked the blood off her face.
But he only made a considering noise, as if he was mulling over the taste of her blood.
Shudders racked her body and true fear crept through everything. She didn’t know how to fight insanity. She didn’t know how to escape. A tiny part of her wondered if death wouldn’t just be easier.
The thought passed. Ty was out there, trapped. Zach was trapped and probably hurt. Her entire family was trying to solve the mystery of Braxton Lynn. Someone would make it here eventually and help her.
Ty was counting on her. He’d left her alone thinking she could handle anything that came her way, so she would. She would.
If she believed that, she could endure anything.
Anything.
“Please, Braxton. Just a break from the straitjacket. Besides, if you take all this fabric off you’ll be able to cut me wherever you want.”
“I want to watch you cut yourself, Jen. A test. Which do I like better? Inflicting pain? Or making you inflict pain on yourself? I get blood either way.”
“Then just free my arms. Please. Please.”
He sighed heavily. “Fine. But only because I want the experiment. It’s important to find out what makes you feel the best, isn’t it?” He undid some strap, then rolled her to the side so her back was to him. “I thought I liked revenge. Doing something for my brother. Ty was supposed to be Oscar’s brother, but he ratted him out. Did you know that about the man you let touch you? That he’s no better than a cowardly tattletale?”
She bit her tongue against the need to defend Ty. He wanted her fear and her desperation, but she doubted he’d care for her anger.
There were sounds, the gradual loosening of the fabric holding her arms around her. She nearly wept with relief, but then Braxton paused.
“If you try anything, this is my plan. Cut you to ribbons. Bathe this room in your blood. Then bring Ty in to see your mangled corpse that he should have been brave enough and smart enough to save. One attempt at escape, one look at the door, one wrong move—you’re dead, and he sees it all.”
She didn’t suppress this shudder since she knew he liked it. If she gave him everything he liked, maybe he’d make a mistake—get too excited. No matter what, as long as she did what he said, he’d keep her alive. She wouldn’t be the sacrifice he made to hurt Ty.
Braxton pushed her up into a sitting position. He held the strap of one arm tight around his fist. He tugged the other sleeve off. “I’m going to give you the knife. You’re going to slice your wrist. If you do all that, I won’t put the straitjacket back on.”
Jen nodded, and her arm that was now free shook. Even if she could muster up the guts or strength to cut herself, she wasn’t sure her limbs would cooperate. Still, Braxton slowly pressed the handle of the knife into her palm—holding her other arm still by the straps on the jacket.
With his hand now free, he pulled a gun out of his pocket. Everything inside her sank. It was the gun she’d hidden in the couch.
“Hope you weren’t planning on using this.” He smiled indulgently.
She shook her head even though that’s exactly what her plan had been. Still, he’d given her a knife. Maybe he had the gun pointed at her, but she had a weapon, too. If he let go of her other arm, she could knock him down.
She just needed the right moment.
But he just kept smiling, like he knew every move she’d make and had a counterplan for it. He didn’t take the straitjacket off her completely. Instead, he pushed the sleeve still on her arm up, revealing her wrist and adjusting his hold onto her forearm.
“Cut yourself. And don’t wimp out. A real cut. I want to see blood gush. I like knives better, but if I have to shoot you to get blood, I’ll do it. So, pick your poison.”
Jen briefly considered letting him shoot her. It might be better for her in the long run. But she had a knife now. He’d untied her. Her feet were still fastened together, but she had a weapon and she wasn’t tethered to the couch any longer.
“Go on now.”
She nodded, arms still shaking as she slowly brought the knife to where he held her wrist out for her. She’d only have to lunge forward, right in the gut. He’d shoot her, but he’d be hurt, too. Wouldn’t it be worth it?
“Do it now,” Braxton ordered, jerking her wrist toward the knife. “Or I’ll put you back in. I’ll carve that pretty face of yours all up while your arms are tied around you. Would you prefer that, Jen?”
No, she wouldn’t, but she was afraid he was going to do it anyway. But first, she’d cut herself. It excited him, and if he leaned down to lick her wrist like he’d done with her face, she’d have the best chance to stab him where it would do the most damage.
She closed her eyes and pressed the blade to her wrist, inhaling sharply to give herself one last second before she inflicted pain.
But then she heard something. Like a door being opened somewhere. She kept her eyes closed, even as hope soared through her. She had to cut herself and keep Braxton’s attention.
“What the hell was that?” Braxton demanded as she opened her eyes.
He not only looked away, he turned, which gave her the opportunity to strike.
* * *
A SCREAM TORE through the air. Ty immediately jumped from the hayloft. He saw stars, the pain in his foot so bright and burning he nearly lost consciousness.
When a gunshot sounded, Ty didn’t care about the pain. He ran.
He stopped for a moment at the window, but he couldn’t see anything. It’d have to be the door—regardless of booby traps.
Zach was reaching the door just as Ty rounded the corner.
“Was just about in when I heard it. I’ll kick in the door. Stay to the side. We’ll give it a minute, me in first since I’ve got two good feet, then you follow and shoot.”
Ty nodded.
&n
bsp; Zach reared back and kicked. It didn’t open the door, but it jarred it, so Zach kicked again. This time it splintered, and opened weakly.
Almost immediately there was another gunshot.
They both swore, but there was no time to consider the ramifications of Braxton’s shooting at them. Zach went in first, a low roll that hopefully got him some cover. Ty moved in, weapon drawn.
Braxton stood behind the couch, his arm wrapped around Jen’s throat. She was limp and lifeless, blood smeared all over her face. Braxton held the barrel of the gun to her head and grinned.
Jen was too close for comfort, but they simply didn’t have another option. Ty aimed and fired.
Braxton jerked back and Jen fell to the floor. Zach and Ty moved forward as a unit. Red bloomed on Braxton’s shirt and he touched the wound and smiled. “Look at all that blood,” he murmured, transfixed by the sight of his own fingers drenched in his own blood.
Then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed in a heap. Ty didn’t think he was dead—he’d probably just passed out.
“I’ll tie him up,” Zach said.
Ty tossed him his phone. “Call Laurel again and find out what the damn holdup is. We need that ambulance.” He looked down at Jen. Her face was covered in blood and she was so pale and lifeless everything inside him went cold. He fell to his knees next to her and nearly wept when her eyes fluttered open.
“You’re okay,” she murmured.
“Where are you bleeding, darling?” She tried to move, but he stopped her, afraid she’d hurt herself more. “I don’t see where you’re bleeding from.”
“He smeared it all over me. He...” She shuddered, closing her eyes again. “S’okay, though. Have to.”
“Have to what?”
“Get shot. It’s like... It’s like. Laurel and Cam and Dylan, they all did.”
“Baby, shh. Just tell me where—”
“But then it’ll be okay, right? Because they did, but now it’s good. We’ll be good, because I got shot. It’s the answer to the curse. It’ll be okay.”
She wasn’t making any sense, but he didn’t care. “Yeah, it’ll be okay. It has to be.” It had to be. With shaking hands, he moved his fingers over her, trying to find the wound. It had to be on her back, but he was loath to turn her over. But there was bleeding that had to be stopped.