Page 46 of Redemption

I barely take the time to sling on my seatbelt before I throw the Jeep in gear and hit the gas. The tires spin in the gravel, and then the vehicle surges forward.

“Abigail!” I hear Dane’s roar even over the revving engine, and I cast a fearful glance at the rearview mirror.

He’s sprinting out of the house, chasing after me on foot.

As though he could possibly catch me now.

A giddy, mad laugh bubbles through the Jeep, and I increase my speed. Then I see the huge, iron gates ahead. They’re closing. He’s trying to lock me in.

He wants to keep me caged.

Not fucking happening.

The gates are only bracketed by a short brick wall that doesn’t even extend fifty yards on one side. To the left is open countryside. This Jeep is more than capable of navigating the gently rolling hills.

I spin the wheel to the left, racing toward freedom.

My exhilarated laugh morphs into a sharp, short scream when the landscape drops out from under me. I’m airborne for a terrifying instant, and then the hood of the jeep tips downward. Bright green grass fills my view through the windscreen.

Metal crunches, the car horn blares, and pain explodes through my skull before everything goes black.

13

DANE

“Abigail!” I roar her name when the Jeep jerks sharply to the left, away from the closing gates. “NO!”

She doesn’t know that the beautiful landscaping has been cut into a blind fence. The feature keeps troublesome sheep out of the estate while providing an uninterrupted view of the countryside. Instead of an unsightly fence, there’s sharp a ten-foot drop that’s unnoticeable if you don’t know to look for it.

And she’s racing right toward it.

My feet pound the curated lawn, and my heart hammers against my ribcage. I’ll never reach her in time. There’s nothing I can do to stop her. My stubborn Abigail is about to crash the Jeep, and I can’t prevent it from happening. I can’t save her. I can’t protect her.

The disaster seems to happen in slow motion, each horrific moment imprinting on my brain to create nightmares that will last a lifetime. The Jeep is airborne for a split second.

Then comes the crash. The screeching metal. The blaring car horn.

I know what I’ll find when I reach the wreck.

Blood. Death.

I’m as powerless as I was on that terrible night when I was five years old. Another crash, when I was a helpless child.

The sound that tears from my chest is something between a bellow of rage and a wail of anguish.

I can’t lose Abigail.

I won’t.

I refuse to live without her.

I swallow the copper tang of fear that coats my tongue and sprint toward the wreck. Whatever I find at the base of the blind fence, I’ll have to face it head-on. If Abigail survived, she’ll need medical care. She’ll needme.

I can’t allow old memories of long-buried trauma to rise up and consume me. I have to remain grounded in the present.

I have to save her.

She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive.

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