by Stone, Kyla
The figure paused in the opened doorway. The flashlight beam swept the room. “Here, little piggy. Come out, come out. Wherever you are.”
Quinn stiffened. Anxiety torqued through her. She knew that bored, simpering voice.
Billy Carter entered the room. She sensed rather than saw him, judging his movements by the way the flashlight shifted and grew exponentially brighter. He was somewhere to her left. The door blocked her view other than a narrow wedge directly in front of her.
The clothes on the racks. A couple of the hangers were still moving. Trembling ever so slightly.
Her veins went slick with terror. She tightened her grip on the slingshot.
Maybe he would miss it. Maybe he would just walk right out and—
Billy focused the flashlight on the costume rack. “There you are.”
Before she could do anything, he lunged forward—into her line of sight—plunged one hand into the costumes, and yanked Chloe out.
He dropped her, shrieking and squealing, and lunged in again for Juniper.
In a heartbeat, both girls had been plucked from their hiding spots. They huddled on the floor, crying and sniffling, whimpering in terror, their small arms wrapped around each other.
Billy had dropped his semi-automatic rifle onto a sling to grab the girls, but he already had it in his hands again—ready to fire, to do horrible things.
She didn’t remember seeing him put the flashlight down, but it was lying on the carpet next to the stacked plastic totes in the corner, the room alight in an eerie mix of harsh brightness and deep shadows.
Quinn’s lungs contracted. She had to do something. What was a slingshot against a gun? Nothing. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to stand by and watch him hurt little kids.
She needed a few seconds to calm her frantically beating heart, to think.
Stay down, she whispered to Milo in her mind. Stay hidden, Small Fry. No matter what.
He didn’t.
Milo popped up from behind the plastic totes, his hands balled into tiny fists, his brave little face bone-white. “Don’t hurt them! I won’t let you hurt them!”
She wasn’t ready to act. She didn’t have a plan yet. But that didn’t matter now. She had to move.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
Billy turned toward Milo.
Quinn elbowed the door out of the way and lifted the slingshot, the three-eighth-inch steel ammo ball tucked into the rubber sling, ready. She yanked it back, aimed at the back of Billy Carter’s head, and released.
Billy sensed something and whirled at the last second. The ammo skimmed the side of his head rather than striking him in the center of the skull with bone-cracking force.
With a shriek of pain, he dropped the rifle on its sling and clutched at his head. Blood trickled between his fingers. “What the—”
Desperate to hit him again, she fumbled with the slingshot, rummaging frantically in her pocket for more ammo, but she wasn’t fast enough.
He was on her in an instant.
Billy Carter was short, the same height she was, but every ounce of his small frame was hard and wiry muscle. He was incredibly strong.
He seized a hank of her hair and yanked her, stumbling and screaming, from behind the door. He dragged her to the center of the room beside the girls and struck her in the head with the stock of his rifle.
Hot white lightning exploded in front of her eyelids. Blinding pain. Her legs gave out, and she sagged to her knees.
“You little slut! You almost shot my eye out!”
Billy aimed a savage kick at her hand. Pain shot up her arm, thrummed through her fingers and palm. The slingshot went flying across the room. She didn’t see where it landed.
Before she could react or move, he aimed the rifle muzzle in her face. The enormous black hole filled her blurry vision.
“Don’t!” Milo knocked over the storage containers and ran in front of her, putting his tiny body between her and the muzzle of the AR-15. “Don’t hurt her!”
Billy leered at her. Blood dripped from a rip in his ski mask. She couldn’t see his face beneath that awful mask, only the black shining eyes. One eye glaring at her, the other staring off at something else.
“You’re both gonna die tonight, kid,” he growled. “Ain’t nothing gonna change that now.”
She managed to grab Milo around the waist and pull him out of the line of fire. He crumpled into a ball beside her, clinging to her arm. Behind her, Chloe and Juniper cried softly.
She tried to think clearly, to figure something out, but panic buzzed in her brain. She couldn’t think a single coherent thought. There was only the fear. And the pain.
A second figure entered. Dressed in black like Billy, but taller and leaner. Black ski mask. An AR-15 balanced in his arms. He was shaky, twitchy.
The figure stopped short when he saw them. His head turned, taking in the little girls huddled against the clothing rack, sobbing. Quinn bowed on her knees with Milo before the man with the gun.
Billy let out an irritated curse and spat on the floor. “I know you got a soft spot for kids. You best turn around and leave right now.”
“Not kids.” The figure pointed at Quinn. “Just that one.”
Time elongated. A staticky buzzing in her ears. A jolt went through her, all the way to her core.
Octavia. Quinn’s mother was here.
47
Quinn
Day Seven
Quinn stared at her mother in dread.
Octavia Riley was a part of this. This horror. All the death and carnage.
Ray had always been a shark, and Octavia had never questioned his brutality—or reined in her own cruel streak. But this?
Quinn felt like she’d just been gut-punched with a sledgehammer.
“How dare you?” Quinn asked. “How could you do this?”
“Shut up!” Octavia snarled, not even bothering to look at her.
Octavia shifted nervously, her movements jerky and frenetic. She was high as a kite. Quinn didn’t need to see her hollow face to know that. It was in her twitchy limbs, in her scratchy, feverish voice.
“Your spawn nearly killed me,” Billy said, gesturing at Quinn. “What the hell is she doing here?”
“Hell if I know. I’m not her keeper.”
“You know what Ray would say. And Tommy.” Billy’s voice was low, a warning. “They said no witnesses.”
Octavia didn’t move. Quinn could hear her rapid, panting breaths, could smell the stench of sour sweat wafting off her.
“She’s no problem,” Octavia said finally. “I tell her, she won’t say a damn thing to nobody.”
Quinn bit her tongue. Hot coppery warmth flooded her mouth. She rarely did a single thing Octavia told her to, but this wasn’t the time to get mouthy.
“She does, you’re both dead.”
“I’m not stupid. I know that.”
Billy didn’t move, didn’t take his cross-eyed gaze off Quinn. “I should end her for what she did to my head!”
“She’s my blood.” Octavia scratched at her neck over her ski mask. “I’ll owe you.”
Billy’s gaze roamed over Octavia’s body in a sickening leer. He nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Yes, you will.”
He swung the muzzle from Quinn to Milo.
“NO!” Quinn surged to her feet. “Don’t touch him, or I’ll kill you!”
“You might not want to kill that one either,” Octavia said. “That’s Sheridan’s son. The cop. He could be useful.”
“He’s a freaking liability. They all are.”
“So kill him later,” Octavia said as easily as if she was discussing her next score. “Ray wants the girls. That’s why I came to find you. You’re taking too damn long.”
“Don’t you dare take them!” Quinn cried. “You can’t have them!”
Juniper let out a horrible wail. Chloe moaned softly.
Octavia ignored them. “You’re wasting time.”
“No witnesses
,” Billy said. “That’s the deal.”
His eyes narrowed. His finger moved to the trigger. He was going to shoot Milo.
Quinn tuned out the pain pulsing in her skull. The world fell away—the supply room, her mother dressed in black, the sobbing girls and Milo shuddering beside her, Billy’s vicious eyes, the barrel of the gun.
She pushed Milo to the floor. Almost in the same movement, the same breath, she flung herself at Billy. Sprang at him with a feral, frenzied cry, hands outstretched, fingers like claws.
“No!” Milo cried. “Quinn!”
The gun barrel struck her chest and was knocked aside. It didn’t go off. She scratched at his face, going for his eyes, her fingernails scraping through the ski mask fabric. Her nails dug deep into the flesh over his nose and left cheek.
Billy let out a grunt of surprise. He staggered and fell back. Her momentum sent her falling on top of him, the rifle between them, but she couldn’t get to it.
She didn’t think. An animal fury coursed through her. She scrabbled at him, mauling him, tearing at his face with her fingers. The stupid ski mask kept her nails from doing enough damage. She growled in indignant, desperate anger.
Billy bucked beneath her, seized her shoulders, and threw her off him. She landed hard on her back. Pain spiked up and down her spine. He rolled on top of her, planted his knee on her chest, and punched her in the face, hard.
Agony radiated up her cheekbones straight to her brain. White spots flashed in front of her eyes as hot blood gushed over her lips and down her chin. She turned her head and retched from the blood and mucous going down the back of her nose into her throat.
Billy’s oily black eyes flashed as he loomed over her. He grasped the rifle still hanging from the sling over his shoulder and pressed the barrel against her forehead. “You’re gonna die now, you little—”
“You want the gold or not, Billy?” Octavia strode toward the girls. She dropped her rifle on its sling, grabbed the smallest one—Chloe—and hoisted the girl under one arm. “Bishop ain’t talking. Not even with Tommy working over the wife. Ray needs the girls, and he needs them now.
“Do you want me to tell him how you were jerking around over nothing? How long you think before the law gets here? We’re running out of time. Lock them in. Let’s do this, and we can come back for them. That kid could be our ticket out if things get hairy. You’re the smart one, Billy. Come on. Put your dick back in your pants and think it through.”
Billy cursed. He lowered the muzzle from Quinn’s forehead and climbed off her.
Quinn barely felt relief. Darkness fringed her vision. She lay on her back, hardly able to move, blood in her mouth, on her face, dripping down the back of her throat.
“You watch them then,” he said to Octavia.
“Whatever. Just go.”
He grabbed Chloe from Octavia’s arms. “I mean it.”
Quinn tried to sit up, to go to her, but the nausea forced her back down. Her skull felt like an axe had just cleaved it in two. She spat a glob of blood and phlegm onto the carpet.
“Leave me alone!” Chloe screamed and batted uselessly at his face and shoulders with her tiny fists. Billy acted like he didn’t even feel it, like she was little more than an irritating gnat.
He glared down at Juniper. “You come with me, too. You try to run or do anything other than what I tell you, I’m gonna break your sister’s neck with my bare hands. I only need one of you. You understand?”
Juniper stared, hollow-eyed, face slack. She was going into shock. Her mind was shutting down to protect herself.
“Stop it!” Milo cried. “Don’t take her!”
“Run, Juniper!” Quinn shouted. The sound of her own voice stabbed her throbbing head. “Don’t listen to him! Run and hide!”
But Juniper didn’t run. She walked obediently to Billy’s side, her movements stiff and stilted, like a robot.
Billy turned and stalked from the room. Juniper trailed silently after him.
“Quinn!” Chloe cried. “Help! Quinn!”
Her terrible cries echoed down the corridor, seared into Quinn’s brain.
Just like that, they were gone.
48
Quinn
Day Seven
Octavia gestured with the AR-15. “Kid, get over there against the wall with all the clothes. Sit down with your legs crossed and your arms in your lap where I can see them. Quinn, come on. You have to get out of here.”
Quinn didn’t obey. Neither did Milo.
She blinked until her vision cleared and rose unsteadily to her feet. Dizziness slashed through her, but she remained upright.
She stood in the center of the room, Milo beside her, and faced her mother. “How could you let him take them! You know what he’ll do!”
“That’s none of your concern now. You got to think about you, baby girl. What the hell are you even doing here?”
“Don’t call me that. Don’t you dare call me that.” Quinn started forward. Her breath came in shallow, guttural rasps. Her head ached with every moment. “We have to stop him. We have to save the girls—”
Octavia raised the rifle and pointed it at her again. “No.”
Quinn halted. “What are you doing?”
“They aren’t us! They’re nothing like us. They’re the ones who judged us, turned their backs on us. Oh girl, I spent my entire life being judged and despised by these people. They hated you just like they hated me. You know I’m right. They’re getting their due. They’re getting exactly what they deserve.”
And there it was. The cool indifference. The disregard for life. Her casual, dismissive selfishness. The way her own perceived mistreatment justified anything and everything.
Hot hatred erupted inside Quinn. “Move.”
Octavia pulled the ski mask up over her face. Her skin was ashen, her gaze jumpy. “Forget about them. They’re gone. You’re the one in danger. I got Billy to leave so you could get out of here. You’ve got to go, honey.”
“Move out of the way!”
Her face blanched. “I’m trying to help you!”
“Help? Is that what you think you’re doing?”
“You get to leave. There’s no one between here and the exit. I saved your life, baby girl.” Her expression hardened. “Put my own ass on the line to do it too. A little thanks would be nice.”
Anger thrummed through Quinn, overtaking the fear, the pain. She could barely keep her voice down. “You killed all those people!”
“I didn’t pull the trigger,” Octavia whined. Her eyes shuttered, went distant. “I didn’t do nothing.”
“You might as well have! You’re just as guilty!”
“Guilty of what? All we want is what’s owed us. That’s what this is.”
“Did you see the sanctuary? Did you see what they did?”
“I didn’t see anything.” Octavia gave a sharp shake of her head, her chin jutting defensively. “It’s none of my business. Ray did what he had to do. He’s not weak like most men.”
That’s what Octavia did. Spun lies and manipulated the truth to fit what she wanted. Pretended away reality if she didn’t like it—or didn’t want to admit it to someone else.
She didn’t want to know. And so, she didn’t.
Quinn licked the blood from her lips and spat on the carpet. She wiped the back of her arm across her face and took a step forward. She was done with this. Done with this woman who’d contributed DNA but little else. “Let us through, you waste of oxygen.”
Octavia lifted the rifle. “Those girls aren’t your business now. What is your business is Billy Carter. That man never lets a grudge go. Never. I know him. He’s going to change his mind. As soon as he does what Ray wants, he’s gonna come back here. And not with forgiveness on his mind neither.”
“I’m not scared of him.”
But she was. She knew exactly what Billy was capable of. She’d seen it firsthand. She scowled to keep her mother from seeing her fear.
“You should be, bab
y girl.” Octavia’s bloodless lips thinned. “Now move aside, or you’ll make me do something I don’t want to do.”
“You won’t shoot me. You don’t have the balls.”
“Not you.” Octavia shifted her stance and adjusted the rifle in her shaky, twitchy hands. The muzzle wasn’t aimed at Quinn. It was aimed at Milo.
Quinn’s heart turned to ice. “Octavia—”
“I won’t shoot you. I could never shoot you, baby girl. But I’ll shoot the kid. Right in the leg.”
Milo clung to her side, trembling like a leaf but still brave, so brave. “My Dad will come after you! He won’t let you hurt us!”
Octavia snorted. “He doesn’t need to be whole to be our protection. A hostage to make sure we get out of this place alive. See, those are the things I think of. Me. Ray never thinks down the line. He’s not the smart one. I am.”
Quinn stiffened. “Milo is coming with me.”
“Like hell he is. He’s my insurance. Get back, kid. You’re staying right where you are.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Milo cried.
“They’ll kill him,” Quinn said.
“No, they won’t.” Octavia grinned, revealing her yellowed teeth, her face skeletal and garish in the eerie glare of the flashlight. “You don’t need to worry about him, baby girl. This is about us. You and me.”
Octavia was delusional. And she wasn’t beyond killing Milo herself. Quinn believed that. Knew it in her bones.
Octavia Riley didn’t care about anyone but herself. She never had.
A resounding crack echoed down the corridor. Muffled and distant. A gunshot.
Quinn and Octavia flinched.
Milo let out a dismayed whimper. “What was that?”
But they knew. They all knew.
Four more cracks followed the first one. Then silence.
Atticus and Daphne Bishop. Juniper and Chloe.
Quinn felt herself splintering. Breaking apart. Threatening to shatter into a thousand pieces.