I’m not leaving without my sister. I won’t.
“Ty, Lacy, Mumma loves you,” I whisper right before running around to the front of the house again. I find a thicker branch lying on the ground that must’ve blown over from the woods surrounding the property in one of the recent storms because there aren’t any trees nearby.
The weight feels good in my bound hands, not too long or heavy. My hands fit completely around the base, allowing me to hold it without much problem. For practice, I lift it over my head and bring it down to make sure I know the best place to hold it since my bindings provide limited strike movement.
Confident in my ability to club the shit out of his head—with the advantage of surprise on my side—I sneak quietly up onto the porch with the log tucked under my arm to free up my hands to open the door.
The epicenter of her screams comes from upstairs. So loud and full of pain, they just about knock me off my feet. Branch in hand, I move up the steps and silently walk down the hall until I reach the room I know she’s in.
Ever so silently, I crack the door open. His back is to me. He’s blocking Dela. Raising the club over my head, I charge him and swing with all I’m worth. He heard me coming and shifted last minute. The makeshift club connects with his shoulder instead of his head. He spins, thrusting his hand out, catching me in my side with the bloody carving knife he’s been using on my sister. It burns. I’ve never been stabbed before. My eyes water to the point that I can barely make out Dela through the fuzz.
“This is going to be fun,” he says before lunging again. I manage to catch him again hard, against the arm of the hand holding the knife. He drops it and I don’t hesitate, striking once more, catching him upside the head. He goes down. With him out, I turn to Dela. Blood oozes from several slices and stab wounds. I drop the club to pick up his large knife, holding it blade up between my thighs to cut the zip tie. The blade is sharp, but it still takes several passes over the razor-sharp edge to break my binds.
Dela wears several gashes along her abdomen and lower, and it looks like the wordSinnercarved into her forehead.
Oh, god—this guy isn’t one of Robert’s men.
My hands move quicker than I’ve ever seen them move, sawing at the bindings keeping her in place. It’s almost an out-of-body experience. She’s fallen unconscious but breathing.
If I can just… get… this last…tie… The pain that hits my back is overwhelming. In shock, I look down to see a massive knife sticking through my body, impaling me.
The Bible Belt Killer isn’t on the ground where I knocked him out. The next thing I know, I see my branch swinging at my head. Despite the huge blade piercing my body I manage to move enough to keep the branch from hitting me straight on, only getting clipped against my jaw. He immediately drops the weapon to charge me, wrapping his hands around my throat. He squeezes. My lungs burn from want of oxygen. I fight, but my waning energy keeps me from making too great an effort. It’s more of an irritation to him than anything.
Black encroaches on my vision.
And this is it.
I feel myself dying.
Mumma loves you, Ty, Baby Gir—
17
DARK
Hours earlier…
We’ve been following leads trying to find that son of a bitch. The trail took me down roads where spotty cell service would’ve been welcome. The moment we get back into service range, my phone pings with several missed calls. Four in a row from Rae and one voicemail. I hitplayon the voicemail, putting the phone to my ear.
“Dark,” Rae’s voice comes through in a frightened whisper. “I’ve been kidnapped. Get to the house. Get to the kids. Please take care of them.” She sighs like I’m about to hear something final, then she whispers, “I love you.”
“Fuck,” I shout, flooring the gas pedal.
“What?” Reap barks, hand braced against the dashboard in the cab next to me. We’d decided bikes weren’t the way to go. The jackass would hear us coming from miles away. Hard to miss the sound of a Harley engine. With multiple—there goes the element of surprise.
The truck skids. Going through a bend in the road way too fast, the bed fishtails. I get control of the vehicle, but I need to get control of myself. The kids need me. I’m on edge here. Rather than explain, I shove the phone at him to listen for himself.
“Fuck,” he shouts.Yeah, no shit. “Drive,” he barks.
“I am. It’s my family, man. You can’t be more worried than me.”
It takes us twenty fucking minutes to get home, which is half the time it normally takes but still it’s twenty minutes too long. The first thing I see when we hit the trailer at the end of the lane is the door wide open. Rae would never leave the door open.
But it’s when Reaper yells, “Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck—no.” When I follow his line of sight to where his finger’s pointing, I see Winky on the ground, unmoving, lying in a pool of blood.
I slam on the brakes. Reap rushes to Winky’s side, dropping down next to him while pulling out his phone from his pocket.
He’s got Winky. I rush inside, running through every room, finding each one empty. “Rae!” I shout. “Ty, bud!”