Page 63 of Devil's Work: Dark

“Out,” he orders. I nod once, climbing out without giving him any trouble. I have to get the lay of the land before I try for an escape. He drove us here, so he must have some idea of the area. If I don’t plan on us getting caught, then I have to be smart about this.

“Smarter than this one,” he says to me, gesturing to my sister. “She tried to run. Bad things happen to bad women.”

Again, I nod.

He pulls a zip tie from his pocket. “But I’m also not stupid. Hands,” he orders me. I offer up my hands, hoping to keep him calm. He wraps the plastic around my wrists, feeds the end through the locking mechanism, and pulls to tighten just shy of painful. It’s uncomfortable with the edges of the white plastic digging into my wrists, but it’s not cutting off the circulation as of yet.

Then he slams the hatch door shut. “Move,” he orders me. He saysmove, I move, walking in the direction he pushed me to go. With only my eyes, because I don’t want him to know I’m scanning the area, I take in everything within my field of vision.

We appear to be at an abandoned homestead. There are numerous places like this spread around the county. This one is white with chipping weatherboard siding. Three-quarters of the old houses around these parts have this siding. Okay, so that won’t help anyone find me. Though it does have a dilapidated front porch painted gray. One of the step slats is missing—third from the top.

Several of the balusters have rotted away. One of the railing caps has a broken top rail on the left. From the stump nearby lining up, I’m going with a tree fell through it at some point.Remember these things, Rae. If you make an escape, it’ll be pitch black out.To save me from getting hurt or even killed, I need to learn the traps.

It’s open, an overgrown grass field surrounds the house butting up to the forest.

I hit the steps before my sister, careful to step over the missing one, then turn to hold my bound hands out to help Dela up. He has this barbaric rigid switch or leash attached to the shock collar around her neck. He pushes on that to get her moving.

Even with my wrists bound, at least I don’t have to deal with that collar. I don’t think she can even turn her head in that contraption. She’s certainly unable to move her head up and down. Dela whimpers when our hands touch. I don’t say anything to soothe her because I don’t know what will set this guy off. He’s calm for now and I hope to keep him that way for as long as possible, to give myself enough time to plan.

“See,” he says to my sister. “This could’ve gone easier.”

Bastard.When I figure out a way to escape, he will pay for every cut or bruise—physical or emotional—he put on my sister.

Every one.

This man messed with the wrong family. I have the Bedlam Horde at my back. That thought fuels me, fills my veins with hatred for the asshole, and confidence to not only defy him, but to defeat him. I’m a Horde old lady. I belong to the club, and that means something to the club—the exact reason they’re out looking for Jayleen’s killer.

The knob twists without trouble, but the door sticks as if the wood has swollen from the humidity. That happens to wood, old wood especially. He forces me to give it a few hearty shoves with my shoulder to get it open. I’d rub the spot if I could. That hurt. The front door pops open into a wide foyer with the bulk of the living room to the right. There’s a steep staircase in front of us and a hallway to the very left of the stairs. All wood floors. No rugs to catch our feet on and trip when it gets dark.

He moves Dela down the hall and I fall in step next to her. We pass an old half-bath, then he stops us at the next room, opens the door, and shoves me inside, slamming the door behind me. I didn’t expect to be shoved so violently in here and stumble over my feet. By the time I catch myself and reach for the door, I hear him locking it from the outside.

Dammit.I should’ve anticipated that he’d separate us.

The room has no furniture. Just the hard, wood-planked floor, where I plop down because my head is screaming and standing is starting to make me dizzy, and bring my knees up to my chin. It’s hard to believe what men will do for money. This guy, whoever he is, has no beef with me. Some old, white rich dude hired him to get to me because I saved a little girl from a traumatic experience. I don’t regret it. That little girl will have a life thanks to me. Her terrified mother got her daughter back because of me.

Once it’s clear he’s not coming back in, I try to fish my phone from my pocket, but with my hands bound now, I can’t reach it. I can’t move my hands at the correct angle to get in there. Still, I keep trying.

My back and butt ache from sitting on the hard floor. I lie back then roll over to my stomach, resting my cheek on my hands. Although not super comfortable, it works for now. And then I’m left to think about my kids. About the first time I met Dark. That trip to Chuck E. Cheese’s, where we acted like a real family. About the time he asked me if I wanted any more kids because he wanted to have more with me. The moment he told me he loved me.

It’s hard to tell how much time has passed when the first of Dela’s shrieks rips through the silent house. My whole body goes rigid. Panic grips me. What is he doing to her?

I push to my hands and knees in order to stand, then wiggle the doorknob, which does me no good because I heard him lock the damn thing.

Her cries of pain grow louder. Her screams for me. “Rae!” she screams. “Sissy,help me.”

Think, Rae.

There’s one window. The metal latch is rusted and doesn’t want to budge. I continue to work at it, pulling and shoving any way I can get my hands to fit in the space and my fingers to work. After several minutes of digging and scraping at the rust, I lift up, ripping my fingernail off in the process. It stings like a son of a bitch and I cry out but stifle my reaction because no matter what pain I’m dealing with down here, it’s trivial compared to my sister, who screams even louder for me to save her.

“I’m coming, Del,” I whisper, and even with a painful, bloody finger, I give another mighty shove, moving the latch. Several more tries gets it to move all the way to the unlocked position. Then using partial palms and the sides of my hands, I pound upward on the wooden frame of the window until it opens.

Once my feet touch the ground outside under the window, I have to decide whether to run or try and save my sister.

For one, I don’t know where I am. But seeing as this place is abandoned, it’s not a stretch to assume that we’re miles from civilization. Maybe I’d save myself or maybe he’d hunt me down. But one thing is certain: Dela, my baby sister, the person I looked after all our childhood, would die.

I know this monster is going after her first to torture me, to mess with my head, to make me worry about the things he’ll do to me next. But that’s where he’s wrong. I’m not afraid of the things he’ll do to me. He has to know Dela and I are sisters. Robert knew. She’d introduced me that way. Maybe Robert wants her punished for bringing me along. People like him can never be wrong. The men having sex with underaged girls—no, let’s not consider how wrong they were for that. It’s my fault for turning them in, for getting them caught. Sick bastards. Not being able to save Dela scares me more than any pain. Maybe that makes me a fool, but it’s the truth.

Running is completely off the table when I hear her shriek so loudly, it shakes the old farmhouse down to the foundation.

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