12

John drove past the large, two-story colonial house, heading straight for the barn and corrals. Spotting a light on inside, he knew Collins was there. He grabbed his rifle from the back seat and stepped out of the vehicle.

As he did, Collins emerged from the barn, leading a brown mare with a white blaze down her face and a single white-stockinged foot. As he tightened the saddle cinch, he glanced up.

"That was quick. What's the hurry?"

"I had a jailbreak tonight.”

Collins lowered a stirrup and turned to face John. "Damn. Who are you after then?"

"Tosin Oglo."

Collins took a step away from the horse with a frown.. "He was in Bramble a couple of weeks ago, terrorizing the women. Adonis locked him up, then ran him out of town."

John slid his rifle into the saddle’s scabbard. "We've cut Tosin too much slack, but this time he’s gone too far. He helped a female prisoner escape—I need to track him down fast."

"What?" Collins exclaimed.

John put his left foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. "Do you mind if I go through your land to get to his shack?"

"Of course not. Do you need any help?"

"No. I can handle Tosin. Thanks for allowing me to use your horse. I'm grateful for it."

"Her name’s Aurora. She’s a workhorse, steady and sure-footed. She won’t let you down, especially through the brush."

"I owe you one."

"You sure do," Collins said with a smirk. "I had my arms wrapped around the most beautiful woman in the county."

"Give Daniela my best." Aurora was prancing, ready to take off. John held her back for a moment, eyeing Collin’s leather house shoes. "Those really don’t do much for your cowboy image." With that, he kicked Aurora into motion and tore out of the yard, catching a glimpse of Collins' wide grin before disappearing into the night.

Charlotte had lost track of time—it felt like they’d been driving for hours. She pressed her body against the door, hoping it would give way. Throwing herself onto the road seemed like a better alternative than staying trapped in this nightmare. But the door wouldn’t budge, probably rusted shut. The rope around her wrists cut deep, the burn sharp and relentless.

The road had deteriorated into nothing more than a rough, narrow dirt path, each jolt sending waves of nausea through her. The truck’s single working headlight illuminated a dense thicket. Where were they?

In her mind, the answer came quickly, 'Somewhere no one will find you.'

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm. 'The sheriff is on his way'. He irritated her, yet he seemed competent.

The foul stench inside the truck was suffocating. Could someone actually die from a smell? Probably not. But death itself—she hadn’t thought much about it until her father fell ill. She hadn’t liked the idea then. She liked it even less now. She had to escape. Before it was too late.

Suddenly, the truck’s lone headlight swept across a clearing, revealing a crumbling shack with a rickety lean-to clinging to its side. A creek or river murmured somewhere nearby. Off to one side, two rusted trucks sat half-swallowed by weeds, their metal frames slowly being reclaimed by nature. The yard was a junkyard of discarded relics—an old washing machine, a heap of cans and bottles, and countless other scraps.

Undoubtedly a kind of place where a body might be buried and never be discovered. A nervous hiccup lodged in Charlotte’s throat.

Tosin killed the engine, reaching under the dashboard to disconnect the wires. The sputtering died away, leaving only an unsettling silence.

"This is it," he announced proudly. "My home. What I need now is a woman to take care of it."

‘A bulldozer will take care of it’. The words burned at the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them down. She needed to play this right. If she had any hope of getting away, she’d have to use the strategies Brielle had once described. They hadn’t worked on the sheriff—but Tosin was a fool. She could use that to her advantage.

Turning to him, she forced her voice into a soft, pleading tone. "Please let me go. I don’t know anything about your way of life. I’m a city girl—I wouldn’t last a day out here." She hesitated, then whispered, "Please… just let me go."

“And if you don’t, I’ll scream until my voice is gone.”

Tosin’s expression darkened. "No," he said firmly. "You're mine now."

A wave of panic crashed over her, but she swallowed it down. Not yet. Stay calm. Wait for the right moment.

Tosin shoved his door open and stepped out, then turned back to her. "Git out."

She scrambled from the truck, desperate to escape its suffocating stench. Every movement made the rope bite deeper into her wrists, but at least she was on her feet. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the crisp night air.

She held out her hands. "Could you please untie these? The rope is cutting into my skin."

Tosin shook his head. "No. You'll just run off."

"Where would I even go?" She glanced around at the thick forest surrounding them.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the shack. A wave of dread washed over her. Once she stepped inside, she knew escape would be impossible.

She staggered on purpose. "I feel faint," she murmured, and sank to the ground.

“What's wrong with ya?" He squatted beside her, peering into her face. She forced herself not to recoil from his closeness.

"I don’t know… I just need a second."

‘And to think’.

He stared at her, waiting.

She took a slow breath, grateful for even a moment to gather herself. On any other night, the moonlight shimmering through the trees and the soft rush of water nearby would have been beautiful. Crickets chirped in the distance, filling the silence with their song. The scene was peaceful, yet her reality was anything but. She had to figure out a way to escape.

"This is all mine," Tosin said, his voice filled with pride. "My brother’s wife and her folks live farther west, but this land belongs to me. No one can take it. And if you marry me, it’ll be yours too."

She didn’t respond. Talking to him would be as pointless as talking to the trees.

"I make good money selling moonshine," he continued. "Best still in the county, all copper. You can have the money too."

He was completely delusional. Then an idea came to her. She moaned and lifted her tied hands to her face. "I think I’m going to be sick… please, just untie me." She had seen him use this excuse before. She could only hope it worked.

Without a word, he removed the rope and she had to restrain herself from cringing as his thick fingers touched her wrists. She flexed her fingers. "Thank you." The sheriff had said something about using honey instead of vinegar. Well, she was going to honey ol' Tosin to death.

"You feelin' better?" he asked.

"I think I just need some water," she murmured.

He gestured toward an old, rusted well pump. "Help yourself. Plenty of it."

Was he serious? One look at his expression told her he was. "Could you get some for me? I'm feeling weak," she said, letting her voice tremble.

He grabbed her arm in a viselike grip and hauled her to the well. "Don't try anything. Remember I still got the gun?"

'Oh, God! Stay Calm’

When they reached the well, she sank to her knees, the damp earth soaking into her capris. Tosin pumped the handle, sending a stream of water gushing out. She cupped her hands beneath it, pretending to drink, but let the water slip through her fingers and onto her clothes instead.

"See?" he said smugly. "Told ya I had water. Now, let’s get inside. You can fix us some supper."

Not a chance.

She pushed herself to her feet, lacing her fingers together into a tight, solid knot. This was her moment.

"Come on," he grunted, stepping closer.

She swung with everything she had. Her hands slammed into his face with a sharp crack, the impact jolting up her arms. To her surprise, Tosin staggered before collapsing onto the ground.

She didn’t wait to see if he was out cold. She turned and sprinted for the woods, her heart pounding, never daring to look back.