by Ciara Shayee
“We’re leaving. Y-you can’t stop us.”
“On the contrary, I can.”
He was just a few feet away, now. Close enough for her to feel the faint wisps of his breath as he battled to keep his tone in check, not knowing where Ryan might be. “What makes you think I’d let you go now, huh? Why would I after everything I’ve done for you two ungrateful brats?”
“Done for us? Are you crazy?”
Years of pent-up emotion came tumbling from Indie’s mouth. Years of watching Grace cry into her pillow and holding her up when she wasn’t strong enough to keep standing, years of being riddled with guilt over Marley spending her entire life in captivity, and years of being strong even when she felt like crumbling—they all combined to drown Indie’s fear.
“You kidnapped us! You bundled us in the back of a truck and took us away from our family, our friends! Hell, away from England! You expect us to be grateful? Get real, you asshole.”
Idly, Indie considered that if this were a cartoon, which it unfortunately wasn’t, there would have been steam pouring from his ears. As it was, his eyes widened in time with his flaring nostrils; he was a bull about to charge, a lion stalking its prey. Indie utilised the burst of bravery she’d been given to continue, perhaps foolishly.
“For twelve goddamn years you’ve kept us trapped out in the middle of nowhere. You made us your slaves! The only reason we even know where we are is because the guys talk about it sometimes. You just bring these random men out here and don’t even—” The memories that overtook Indie’s mind stopped her. She choked on her words, swallowing hard. “You don’t even care what they do here. What they do to us. You’re an evil, vindictive, psychotic asshole and I can’t wait to see you get your—”
Before she could say another word, he was on her. With one hand he gripped her shoulder, the other clasping the base of her neck. She cried out when her back hit the wall but the little breath in her lungs was expelled by the force of his arm slamming her back.
“Enough out of you! Enough!” he growled. There was nothing human about him; everything about his demeanour was purely animalistic. “You don’t know a thing. Nothing!”
Whether it was bravery or stupidity, Indie didn’t know, but she managed to choke out, “Why?”
He loosened his grip with the expression of a man who’d been struck, allowing her to suck in a small amount of air. Snatched, painful breaths rasped through her lips as she fought for oxygen. Her eyes filled with tears as black spots began to infiltrate her vision and her throat burned like it had been set on fire and sanded with barbed wire. His mood-swings had always given her whiplash, but this was something else.
The man towering over her stared, but he didn’t move either of his hands. For what felt like an eternity, the only sound in the room was Indie’s coughing.
“He stole her from me, you know.” This was said in a strange tone. Eerily soft. Dangerously upbeat.
Wide, terrified azure eyes flicked upward as Indie clutched at the calloused hands around her throat. “Who?”
Even in the state she was in, Indie had the wherewithal to try to understand, to find out as much as possible. In case I get away alive, she thought with determination, keeping Grace and Marley at the forefront of her mind. They were her reason for carrying on, for pushing through the agony of his beatings. Every day had been a battle, but for Grace, her best friend, and for sweet, innocent little Marley, Indie would do anything.
“Penelope Wallis.” Hazel eyes met shocked blue-green. “Your mother,” he added, as though she might not recognise her late mother’s name. Still unable to speak above a whisper, Indie didn’t even try. She simply stared at him with a knot in her brow.
Mum? She thought with panic. He knew her?
“She was the most beautiful woman in the world. No one compared.”
Indie had become increasingly suspicious of his mental health over the years. He’s lost it, she realised as he gazed unseeingly at her face. Vaguely, she wondered if he’d ever ‘had it’ in the first place.
“She was mine.” A rumbling growl reverberated in his chest. Indie’s heart skipped a beat at the sound; at the possessiveness saturating his tone. “If it hadn’t been for Reagan she’d have been mine. He didn’t give anyone at school a chance to get her. Didn’t give me a chance.”
The venom in his tone was new. She was so used to his anger that she’d never managed to find the courage to analyse the emotions in his face—the jealousy in his eyes, in his words. It was so obvious now, when she looked for it.
“She was supposed to be my wife. You were supposed to be my daughter. Mine!”
“No…” Indie breathed, suddenly seeing the reason for all this. For the ranch, their kidnap, the pain she’d watched Grace suffer, and the caged existence Marley had experienced in her few short years of life. The reason for it all?
Garrett Smith was jealous.
The past twelve years were the result of a lifelong, one-sided vendetta because her dad won her mum’s heart. All of this…the agony, the heartache, the pain and fear…it was a schoolyard battle gone wrong.
A hysterical snort burst from her lips, causing hazel eyes to flip instantaneously from unseeing to alert, locked onto hers like a missile to a target.
“It’s all his fault!” he roared, grasping Indie’s jacket to better pin her against the wall. Fury reignited, the flush of anger spread in a bloody hue across his wrinkled face. A gust of breath flooded from Indie’s body in a long rush, bathing his face and rustling the greasy strands either side of his head.
An explosion of tears streamed down her cheeks, her wild blonde curls sticking to her wet skin. Looking at him now through blurred eyes, seeing the craziness in his gaze up close while his shaking hands wrapped themselves tighter around her neck, Indie realised that she, Grace, and Marley had never really stood a chance.
He’d snapped a long time ago.
The last thought to grace her mind before blackness enveloped her into its welcoming embrace was of Grace and Marley.
Grace was panicking.
She was getting increasingly worried as Indie’s absence stretched from a few minutes into half an hour. Marley had woken up after a nightmare expecting to be able to snuggle Indie, and this time, Grace wasn’t enough. She’d eventually cried herself out; as Grace paced, she watched her from her spot at the head of the bed, where she cuddled her stuffed bunny and sucked her thumb with sad, red-rimmed eyes.
A low whine in the back of Marley’s throat had Grace spinning halfway through her circuit—around the bed, to the dresser, to the window, and repeat.
She forced a shaky smile and crouched beside the bed, reaching out to stroke Marley’s ankle. “It’s okay, Mars. Indie will be back for us any second, and then we’re going on a little trip. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
Marley shook her head vehemently side-to-side, her doe eyes wide and fearful. The sight made Grace grimace as she reached out and tugged Marley over. The child snuggled into her willingly, reaching back for her beloved Mr. Bunny.
“Mars, I know you’ve only ever lived here, but there’s a big world out there for us to explore together, okay? And we’re finally going to show you it. We’re going on an adventure, wouldn’t you like that? There’s lots to see and do, and lots more people. Nice people, like Ryan. You like Ryan, right?”
Marley nodded tentatively against Grace’s neck, earning a smile.
“So, there’s lots more nice people like Ryan for you to meet, and all kinds of amazing things for you to do and see. We’ve just got to wait for Indie, then we’re gonna go, all right?”
With a heavy sigh, Marley nodded again and settled against Grace with her arms wound tight around the older girl’s neck. Her small body was tense, but she was slightly calmer.
Grace wished she could say the same. Waiting anxiously for Indie, she was more tense than ever.
After another fifteen minutes of pacing, Grace had had enough. She managed to loop the two duffels over one arm a
nd carried them, as well as Marley, down the stairs on feather-light feet. There, at the foot of the staircase, she faced a conundrum. Should she carry Marley with her, or leave her in a safe spot?
Marley made up her own mind, as it turned out.
Grace had barely taken a step toward the hall when Marley began to squirm and wriggle to get down. Hesitating, Grace scanned the foyer with desperate eyes, huffing in relief when she spotted it. Right by the door there was a cupboard; it was small but perfect.
If Marley would let Grace leave her there, anyway.
She walked closer and pulled her head back to meet Marley’s gaze. The little girl stared at her, confused and not at all happy about being downstairs without Indie.
“Okay, Marley, I need you to stay right there for a minute. I’ll be back for you really soon, I promise.”
Marley whimpered and clutched her bunny tight to her chest.
“You hold on to Mr. Bunny and I’ll be back before you know it.”
Grace hated every second of it, but she shoved the shoes in the cupboard to one side and settled Marley in the new space with her bunny, running a hand over her head. Indie had plaited it the night before, so it hung in loose chocolate curls down her back and over her shoulders—she looked utterly adorable. Terrified, too.
“I love you, Mars. Stay right here, all right?”
Marley nodded, squeezing her toy and shuffling back as Grace pushed the door to, making sure to leave it open enough that light could still get inside. Then, she mustered up all the courage she could and edged down the hall toward the study. When Indie had said she needed a few things, Grace wondered what she meant. During her paced circuits of their bedroom, she’d decided that Indie must have meant paperwork or something similar, though she hadn’t been able to work out just how Indie would be able to gain access to anything like that.
That said, she was also under no illusions that her friend could do whatever she wanted once she’d put her mind to it. That was just the sort of person she’d always been; a fixer.
A sudden, muffled yell froze Grace on the spot. She forced herself to relax enough to take another hesitant step closer to the door so she could see inside. In all her life, Grace had never seen anything so disturbing as the sight that greeted her when she peeked around the doorframe.
Garrett had Indie pinned against the wall—her feet dangling a foot above the floor.
He was holding her there by her neck, his heaving breaths overpowering her small, breathless cries. The air was thick with tension, fog-like, and growing considerably more unbearable as the life poured from Indie’s body with every passing second.
Grace pressed her shaking form to the wall and bit her cheek to stop the scream threatening to escape. It killed her a little to acknowledge that Indie had been dealing with this all along and hadn’t told her. It was always Indie who saved them from situations like this. She always stopped conflicts before they escalated and reached Grace or Marley; especially when it came to Garrett.
Panic-stricken baby-blues desperately searched the hallway, hunting for anything that could get them out of this mess.
Time was running out.
Sitting innocently on a shelf a few feet away was a golden statue. It was dimmed by years of sitting in a darkened hallway without care and attention. Grace’s eyes swept over it but quickly reversed, the answer to their prayers coming to her in an uncharacteristic flash of clarity. She scoffed internally as she pulled it down with an unsteady hand; it was clearly meant to be a likeness of Garrett.
She gripped it tight in her small hand—tight enough to create indentations in her palm, but not enough to detract from her determination to do what she knew needed to be done.
Her tattered black trainers were silent as she crept into the study for the first time. Her eyes were set unwaveringly on the broad shoulders of Garrett Smith, the man who stole her and Indie from everything they’d ever known.
Garrett Smith, the evil creature who had tormented her brave, strong, resilient friend for almost as long as Grace could remember.
Garrett Smith, the vile excuse for a human being who deserved to pay dearly for what he’d done to the once happy-go-lucky girl she’d always thought of as a sister.
Garrett Smith…the man who was about to get his long-overdue comeuppance.
A loose floorboard creaked loudly when Grace’s toes pressed it. Her breath hitched.
He began to turn, his grip on Indie shifting just enough to allow her to inhale a shallow breath. Grace noted, with a pang of distress, that she barely seemed conscious.
The inhuman snarl on Garrett’s face when his profile came into view was the last straw.
Summoning every bit of strength in her petite body, she swung the statue through the air with all her might. The sound and impact of the metal hitting his head was stomach-churning, the force shaking Grace to her core. The lump of brass fell from her trembling hand and hit the hardwood floor with a clang, just feet away from the prone body in front of Grace. Blood began to leak from the gash at his temple.
Indie fell to the ground beside him. She was the only thing capable of pulling Grace’s gaze away from the unconscious body at her feet.
“Indie! Indie, oh God, wake up!” Grace sobbed over Indie’s body, sinking to the floor. She pulled at Indie’s shoulders in a weak attempt to sit her up. With her slim frame, she knew it would be impossible to move her by herself. With freedom so close, almost close enough to touch, Grace had no other options than to ask for help from their only ally.
Ryan.
A quiet, rasped breath from Indie’s lips was all it took to make up Grace’s mind. She stole a cushion from the sofa to rest under Indie’s head, then ran toward the front door. The thump of it banging against the wall when she threw it open was audible even out in the barn, where Ryan was busy rearranging the hay stores.
Grace skidded into the barn seconds later, wide-eyed and snow-white, and slid on the damp floor right into his arms. Inhaling sharply with embarrassment and fear, she clamped her eyes shut. Even though she’d established a good friendship with Ryan over the past month or so, the unexpected touch set her nerves on edge.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, steadying her on her feet and lowering his hands. Ryan peered down at her worriedly, his curiosity and fear spiked by her sudden entrance.
His worry grew stronger when Indie didn’t appear behind her, like usual. The young man’s chest ached as he silently urged her to get herself together enough to explain what was wrong. His hands itched to reach up and smooth away the tears staining her pale cheeks but he wasn’t sure it would be welcome.
“I need your help,” she finally choked.
Ryan’s eyes widened and his heart began to thump harder against his ribs.
“Garrett was hurting Indie, so I hit him and I think he’s dead, but Indie needs help!”
Stunned silence followed Grace’s tirade. She exhaled a heavy breath, unable to look at Ryan; instead, she focused her eyes on a saddle resting on a stand beside him.
Ryan took a few long seconds to soak up her words. His heart was racing a mile a minute, and his eyes flew around to check for the other guys before he remembered they were on the supply run. Nobody else was around. Ryan handed her a clean handkerchief from his pocket and sighed.
“Okay, I need you to try to calm down. Breathe. Go sit in the hayloft where we hide the guitars,” he said softly but firmly. “Wait…where’s Marley?”
Grace’s cheeks flushed pink. “She’s in the cupboard in the hall. I need to go get her.”
“Okay, get Marley, then come back here and wait for me. Look at me, Grace.”
Their eyes locked. He tried to smother his guilt at not doing something sooner, though what, he didn’t know; she looked petrified, like she might go into shock at any moment.
“Take these.” Ryan handed her a bunch of keys. “Don’t use them yet. I’ll be right back for you and Marley. What have you got to do, Grace?”
She stood stock-still in
front of him, her eyes glassy and overwhelmed. It still wasn’t even eight a.m.
“Take the keys, get Marley, and go the hayloft. Don’t move ‘til I come back.”
She nodded meekly; he knew she was in shock, but he needed her to concentrate.
“Good. Anything else you need to grab?”
Grace nodded wearily. “A couple of bags. I’ll grab them. Indie’s in the s-study.”
Needing a distraction, Grace glanced down and caught sight of Ryan’s leg. The bandage beneath his loose-fitting, well-worn jeans made the injury location easy to spot. She hoped it wouldn’t hinder him. Seeing where her worried eyes had wandered, he assured her he’d be okay before ushering her toward the house so she could fetch Marley. Only once he’d watched her scoop Marley from the cupboard and run back toward the barn did he make his way down the hall to the study.
Tears soaked Grace’s cheeks as she rocked her body side-to-side in an attempt to comfort herself, as well as Marley. The little girl was huddled in Grace’s lap, her arms and legs wound tight around the older girl’s torso and her face buried in her neck. Grace’s entire body ached, her heart hurting with the knowledge of how badly this morning had gone, and how hopeless their situation suddenly seemed.
With only one ending to this mess seeming likely, she couldn’t help but cry as she felt her hope seeping from her body into the hay below.
CHAPTER SIX
When he reached the study, Ryan had to force down bile and tears as he carefully attempted to manoeuvre Indie off the floor into his arms, ignoring the blossoming handprints around her neck and the prone body of the boss.
He doesn’t deserve my time, he grimly decided, shifting Indie against his chest and rising slowly to his feet. His first thought was that she was far too thin, scarily so, even if she was only a few inches over five feet tall. Ryan’s leg injury protested a little, but he shoved it to the back of his mind, concentrating on getting Indie out of there and praying, if he wasn’t dead, that the boss at least stayed down long enough for him to get the girls away from the ranch. Not that it looked as though he’d be moving anytime soon.