I layered in my focus on my legs, willing them to cooperate, to bend and brace.
Little by little, they did.
Was it slow? Did they feel fat and rubbery? Did each small movement seem to sap more of my energy?
Yes to all.
But there was no time to wallow.
I might still have faith that Nico was coming—even as the sky lost the blush of sunset and settled into inky darkness—but that didn’t mean I shouldn’t try to save myself. Or, at the very least, delay my potential torture.
When I was on my knees, I reached out toward a load-bearing beam, wrapping my arms around it in a tight hug that made my ribs scream. Then I pulled.
And if I screamed, so what?
Ronny would probably think I was still fighting with creatures that wanted to eat me.
Sweat poured down every inch of me with the effort. But what felt like a lifetime later, my feet were on the ground and my legs were (mostly) holding my weight.
“Okay. Alright,” I whispered to myself, taking a few deep breaths. “It’s not that far,” I added, glancing toward the door all the way at the other end of the parking garage. Which was, roughly, the length of a football field. But, hey, being delusional might just be what got me out of this mess of a situation.
I crept across the floor, wincing as things nipped and scraped at the bottom of my feet.
First order of business when I got out of this: tetanus booster. Then a long bath. A couple of ibuprofen. And a big hug from Nico. Not necessarily in that order.
It felt like an insurmountable distance. But I took it on one shuffling step at a time, watching the parked cars loom larger as I got closer.
I wondered if anyone had been hassled enough trying to manage their bags and kids to forget to lock their car.
Maybe I could get inside one and sit down for a few minutes, try to get my strength back before continuing on. Or just lock the doors and hunker down if I didn’t feel strong enough to continue on.
“Almost,” I murmured to myself, almost able to touch a large SUV if I put my hand out.
But just when I thought I might get a break, the light pierced through the darkness and I could hear Ronny’s rushed footsteps as she came up behind me.
Pain sliced across my scalp as she grabbed a handful of my hair, wrapped it around her fist, and yanked down hard, forcing me to lower if I wanted to ease the pain.
Tears pricked my eyes as my knees landed hard and hope deflated in my chest.
“More grit than I thought you’d have. But not as much as me.”
“Grit,” I spat. “Like killing your own son.”
Those words had her dropping my hair.
I just barely resisted the urge to reach out and rub my aching scalp.
“I would never kill my Matty.” Her voice cracked. And I almost wanted to feel sorry for her. If she wasn’t actively plotting to have the man I had fallen for killed. Along with everyone he knew and loved.
“Then why is he dead?”
“It was his own fault,” she said, sniffling hard. “He was getting cold feet. We finally got a buyer… and Matt backed out, hid the paperwork, got rid of his laptop.”
Matt had a change of heart?
That was something I was going to unpack later.
“I got the threat. But Matty didn’t answer his phone. And then…”
