Page 96 of Ruger's Rage
"Give me a minute," Sarah insists. "Just need to catch my breath."
A barrage of gunfire erupts outside, bullets shattering the front windows.
We drop to the floor, the girls screaming as glass rains down around us.
"So much for catching your breath," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Where's this basement?"
Sarah points to a rug near the fireplace. "Trapdoor. Hidden."
Ellie moves quickly, pushing aside furniture and rolling back the rug to reveal a wooden hatch set into the floor.
She pulls it open, revealing a ladder descending into darkness.
"Wrenleigh, Sadie Jo and Kinsey first," Sarah directs. "Then Tildie. Ellie and I will follow."
"You're injured," I protest. "You go first."
"Not happening, I’m the best shot we have right now." Sarah's voice is steel despite her pale face. "Go. Now."
The authority in her tone means no one is going to dare to argue with her.
Kinsey descends the ladder, disappearing into the darkness below.
More gunfire peppers the cabin, wood splintering as bullets find their marks.
A man's voice shouts from outside—too muffled to make out words, but the threatening tone is unmistakable.
"Your turn," Sarah tells me, pressing a small handgun into my palm. "Know how to use one of these?"
"Point and shoot," I say, remembering Marco's impromptu lessons years ago. One of the few useful things he ever taught me.
"Safety's off. Don't hesitate if someone follows who isn't us." She squeezes my hand. "Go."
I slip over the edge of the trapdoor, finding the ladder rungs with my feet.
As I head down, I hear the cabin door splinter, men's voices suddenly clear.
"Where is she?" a voice demands—familiar, terrifyingly so.
It’s Marco.
My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach.
He's here, so close I could almost touch him if I climbed back up. The man who haunted my nightmares for months, who stole years of my life through manipulation and abuse.
"Who?" Sarah asks.
"Elizabeth. I know she's here." Marco's voice grows colder. "Where is that fucking bitch?"
"Don't know any Elizabeth," Sarah replies. "And the only women here belong to themselves."
A slap echoes through the floor—the unmistakable sound of a hand striking flesh.
"Search the place," Marco orders someone. "She's here somewhere."
I reach the bottom of the ladder, finding Kinsey waiting in what appears to be a root cellar carved into the mountain itself.
A single bulb provides dim light, revealing canned goods, water jugs, and emergency supplies lining the walls.
