Page 121 of Unbroken

The door opened.

“Fuck,” Devon hissed, stepping toward the car at the same time Jason staggered back. His hand moved to cover his mouth as he mumbled an expletive.

I was moving before I’d decided if I wanted to see, my body making the decision for me.

“Blakely, no, I don’t think—” Jason said, but it was too late. I stopped next to the trunk and peered inside.

Laying on the dark fabric, with her hands bound and shaking like she couldn’t possibly remember being warm, was…me?

It was a fleeting thought, but it rattled me all the same. Dark, wavy hair was in a messy mass around her, and her features—at least the ones I could make out behind the smudged makeup and silver tape over her mouth—bore a striking resemblance to mine.

A woman who looked so much like me was bound and gagged in the trunk of our car.

Devon looked from me to the woman. Pain was all I could read in his expression, and I was positive mine was the same.

He took a step toward her, and she immediately cowered, pushing herself the best she could toward the back seat. Devon raised his hands in the air and stopped.

Her eyes were wide and bloodshot. Muffled sounds emanated from behind the duct tape over her mouth, and I took a ragged, fortifying breath before I moved.

“Let me,” I said, touching Devon’s arm and gently nudging him backward. His unsure eyes met mine, but I wasn’t giving him an option. Not too long ago, I was that terrified woman.

I didn’t expect Devon to go far, and he didn’t. He took another step back and stopped. He was close enough that he’d be able to jump in if necessary, but far enough away to give her some space.

“I promise none of us are going to hurt you. We only want to help,” I began.

Underneath her torn and disheveled gray top, her chest was heaving with labored breaths. Her jeans were stained and hung off her body like they were at least two sizes too big. Sturdy rope was twisted around her wrists and ankles. I could already see the angry, red marks forming from where the material had scraped and bruised her, around the same snake tattoo I had inked on my wrist. I was sure if I examined the rest of her, my other tattoos would be there, too. Hers just looked like they’d been drawn with a black marker to perfectly match mine.

An acute sadness pinned me in place and made my next words come out a little broken. “I’m Blakely, and I really want to take that tape off your mouth and untie your hands and legs. Would that be okay?”

She hesitated, likely weighing her slim options before she nodded.

“I’m going to need some help, though. This is my boyfriend, Devon,” I said, motioning to him. He was a statue behind me, and I realized Jason was several yards away now with his phone at his ear, probably calling the cops. “I promise he’s not going tohurt you, but he’s going to use his pocketknife to cut that rope. It’ll be quicker than trying to untie it.”

The knots looked complicated, and I knew that although it was scary, the quickest way out was often preferable. Even if it meant trusting a teenager who had just stumbled upon you to use ancient bolt cutters they’d found across the basement to remove the chain from your ankle.

Another pause, and she inclined her head again.

Devon took two cautious steps until he was standing beside me. All his movements were slow and intentional, and he explained each step before he did it.

“I’m going to step up next to Blakely.”

“I’m reaching in my pocket for my knife. It’s a small knife—my best friend, James, actually got it for me last Christmas.”

“I’m going to open the blade now.”

She tensed, a whimper slipping through the tape. He stopped then and looked down at me. “You can do it. Use my knife to cut the rope.”

I shook my head, wishing that I could, but I held my shaking hand toward him. “I don’t want to risk cutting her. I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

He squeezed my fingers and gave me a longing, understanding look that nearly broke me. But he took pity on me and quickly turned back to the woman.

He continued talking her through each step before he made it. He leaned into the trunk and efficiently cut the ties on her ankles first, then her wrists. Angry red marks gave way to broken red skin beneath the binding.

My stomach lurched, remembering the last time I’d seen marks like that. What she’d been through…

Free from the rope, Devon returned to his place just behind me as the woman struggled to sit up on her own. She rubbed at her wrists, then recoiled when the pain I knew all too well shot up her arms.

“Cops will be here in two minutes,” Jason said from several feet away.

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