I take another drag of my cigarette, allowing the nicotine to ground me, even if it’s not helping in the slightest.
“Because that’s what I endured for two years, Daxton. Two years of captivity—all because of you.”
He’s quiet for a while, with only the wind gripping the trees sauntering through the atmosphere.
“I had no choice,” he whispers, though he still holds his stance, showing no weakness or signs of caring. “I can’t care for you. I’m not the same person as before.”
Fuck him.
That’s the only reply I get before he strides away toward the car, leaving me desperate and angry in the wake of the tsunami plaguing my mind.
I’m fuming, my fists clenched tightly as I focus on deep, controlled breaths. I struggle to hold back the urge to shove him to the ground and unleash a flurry of punches onto his face.
I hear the car door open and close, followed by the soft crunch of footsteps behind me. I instantly know who it is before looking, feeling the warmth of her hand as her fingers graze my palm.
Her touch brings me safety, managing to calm my racing mind as I grab her hand, and she leans her head against my shoulder. The mere feeling of her touching me has me able to take a deep breath, and I throw the cigarette to the ground, stomping on it to extinguish it.
“We’ll work it out. We always do,” she whispers, and I nod as she leads me back to the car where Daxton sits behind the wheel, his seat reclined backward into a lying position.
With seats folded down, we arrange ourselves to lie flat, our feet resting on the trunk and heads propped up against the inclined front seats, staring up at the vast expanse of the sky that stretches endlessly above us all.
Naya embraces me in her arms, her sweet scent wafting through my nostrils and bringing me home. Though the position is far from comfortable, it’s a welcome relief from the turmoil we’ve just left behind.
A soft humming sound comes from the radio as Daxtontunes in, and the reassuring click of the door locking offers a semblance of security.
“An abandoned house was engulfed in flames,” a feminine voice crackles through the radio, prompting us all to freeze in place. “Firefighters have been battling the blaze since early morning, but it’s spreading rapidly. No other sources have been identified, and the fire was only discovered due to thick smoke visible from miles away.”
Daxton’s hands tremble slightly as he fumbles for his phone, hastily pulling up a grainy live stream of the news despite the spotty internet connection. There’s no mistaking the burning structure, the looming wall surrounding it, seen far away in the distance—the very same place we set ablaze.
“A black sedan was spotted fleeing the scene on CCTV,” the voice continues, and a chill runs down my spine. “The police are further investigating this.”
We all hold our breaths, exchanging apprehensive glances while realizing the dire consequences of this getting to the media.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, making breathing properly through the weight impossible. We are not just fleeing the clutches of the dollhouse for our freedom; we’re now fugitives, racing against time and fate to save our very lives.
Chapter 4
Naya
Staring out of therain-spattered window, my reflection is distorted by rivulets streaming down the glass. I trail their path with my eyes, listening to the rhythmictap, tap, tapas raindrops hit the panes.
Something is wrong. I can feel it in how my body tenses, heart racing faster. Yet, no one else notices anything. They’re both asleep.
Darkness from the outside seems to seep into the car, casting long shadows dancing with the glowing light from the dawn stretching across the horizon.
Every nerve-ending in my body is on edge, as if I’m prepared for something to emerge, though I do not know what.
Blinking away remnants of sleep, I orient myself in the cramped space of the backseat. My neck aches from the uncomfortable position I slept in, and my body is sore from the uneasy rest. Grey’s slumbering form is beside me, head leaned against the window, and his steady breathing matches the rhythm of the rain.
Yet that is not what made me wake up with the sense of something being strange—wrong.
I peer out the window, but nothing is there, and I look over to Daxton in the front. He’s sleeping soundly, eyes creased in worry, as if the world plagues him even in sleep.
None of us slept well last night, the heavy voice of the news channel filling the silent car with unwanted terror. Exhaustion weighs on me, my heart pounding within my ribcage at every crack from outside the car.
Another crack and creak, and my heart flies up to my throat. A sound that grates on my nerves, making me listen more closely, expecting something to pop up out of nowhere.
It’s just an animal.
