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When I was taken, nothing hurt more than knowing I’d never see him again. I’d never hear his voice, never see his smile. I’d never feel those butterflies again, or lean into his touch. I would cry when I’d think about him, knowing that he’d eventually move on, fall in love again, and forget all about me. But it didn't turn out that way. Now he was here, suffering in ways I never wanted him to even know about.

I ran down the hallway, the basement door slamming hard against the wall as I bolted down the stairs. The chain around my ankle caught on the last step and I stumbled forward, grabbing the banister to steady myself, when everything in me…stopped.

Blood.

So much blood that it spattered the backs of his thighs, glazed his back, seeped over the ink of his tattoos, dripped down his sides, and pooled on the mattress beneath him. A broken sound escaped me, my hand flying to my mouth as tears blurred my vision. “Jackson?” I whispered, almost paralysed with fear when he failed to reply. Panic tightened around my chest as I forced myself forward. The single lightbulb overhead flickered, casting a weak glow over him, over the wet shine of his wounds. A thick, metallic scent clung to the air around him.

“Jackson?”

I sank to my knees beside him, my hand hovering for a moment before I set it gently on his shoulder. A sharp hiss tore from him, his body trembling under my touch, shallow breaths lifting his chest in uneven bursts. Relief and horror crashed into me all at once. I shuffled closer, leaning over to look past his raised arm, inhaling sharply when I found his eyes open and glistening with tears.

“Evie…” he whimpered, his face twisting.

“I’m here, I’m here,” I rushed, the words tumbling over themselves.

“It hurts,” he choked.

“I know, I’m so sorry.” My hands shook as I carefully pushed his hair back. He sagged against the brick in front of him while a broken sound left him, and I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling down my face. Our breaths hitched together, our quiet sobs filling the small, suffocating space. This was it. I felt it in my bones that it would only get worse from here. And Wayne would start looking for his next victim soon.

We…we were running out of time.

“We have to get out of here,” I whispered, the words barely holding together as I pressed my forehead to his. “Do you hear me? We have to.” He let out a weak, pained breath, his eyes squeezing shut.

“How?” he rasped, the single word dragging through him.

“I…I don’t know.” My voice faltered.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to think past the panic, past the blood, past the fear pressing in from every side. It was impossible to do anything with the chains attached to us. I had more free rein of the home, but I couldn’t reach any exits, and the landline was broken. We…we needed the—“Keys,” I breathed, my fingers tightening in the damp strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “We need the keys.”

His brow furrowed, a quiet groan slipping from him at the movement. “How are you going to get them, Evie? That’s…that’s too dangerous.”

“I think he keeps a spare set upstairs,” I said, the words coming faster now, fragile but forming. “In the bedroom. When—when Peter was here…he made me turn around, but I heard them. I’m sure of it.”

Jackson’s breathing hitched. “What if you’re wrong?”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “But what if I’m right? What if that’s all it takes? I know his routine, I know when he leaves, how long he’s gone…when he comes down here.” I brushed my thumb carefully along his temple. “Every Monday morning, he goes into town.” I held his gaze, my heart pounding. “I think…that’s our chance.”

Our only chance.

Because once Wayne discovered the keys were missing, we’d both be dead. He’d go insane with rage—I could almost imagine it. The way his pupils would enlarge, turning his eyes pitch black, a stillness to his movements, a silent rage that we wouldn’t be able to fight against. He’d…make it hurt. He’d torture both of us to death, I just knew it.

“If he realises the keys are gone…and he will…he won’t hesitate.” I swallowed hard, my chest tightening as I searched his face. “And I can't lose you again Jackson, I couldn't stand to live another day without you.” My soul would shatter if I had to watch Jackson be killed by Wayne. I’d rather be slaughtered to death, never knowing what he would look like beneath his flesh.

Jackson’s eyes fluttered open, glassy with pain, tears slipping free and tracking down his temples. “Never,” he said, his voice barely holding together, but fierce in a way that cut straight through me. “I swear to you. I won’t let that happen.” His breath hitched, a fragile, broken sound. My hands came up instinctively, brushing the tears from his cheeks, cradling his face as carefully as I could.

“Monday,” I said, the word trembling as it left me. “That’s it. That’s when we do it.” A sob caught in my throat. “We escape on Monday.”

Jackson let out a shaky breath, his arms trembling where they hovered weakly above us. “I’m fucking terrified, Evie,” he admitted.

“I know,” I whispered, sliding my hands down to hold his neck, keeping him close, like I could anchor him here. “I am too. I’m so scared.” I pressed my forehead to his again. “But we still have each other, okay?” Escaping Wayne was a dream—a fantasy created by my mind where I’d wake before it got to the good part. But this wasn’t about me anymore. This was about him. I loved him too much to watch him suffer anymore. I couldn’t bear to imagine the outcome becoming anything other than our freedom.

“I don’t know what’s waiting outside those doors,” I admitted, my voice quiet, but certain.

“But I know I want to face it with you.”

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

EVIE