Page 17 of Sinful Hearts
I creep from the kitchen, my heart hammering, and into the foyer to find Emilio gone. Peeking out the window, I spot taillights fading down the drive.
This is it.
My time to run.
Jack-freaking-pot.
I open the door, and an alarm shrieks through the house.
My chest clamps tight when the taillights bleed brighter and then reverse, coming closer.
He’s coming back.
Do I hide? Make a run for it?
I have no money. No shoes. Nothing.
“Fuck it.” I run.
I run faster than I’ve ever run in my life in the opposite direction of the driveway.
I’ll sleep on the street if I have to.
Or under a bridge or in a ditch. Anything is better than living with this knife-wielding psycho.
My lungs burn, my feet pounding against the pavers, and I glance back to see the SUV stopped.
I sprint faster, ignoring the brutal rain and strong wind.
Don’t stop.
Run, Liliya.
Run like Dasha.
When I reach the backyard, I pass a pool, a pond, and head straight for the wooded area. Every few steps, I glance back, expecting Emilio to suddenly appear behind me.
I plunge deeper into the trees, branches hitting my body, and the lack of light makes it hard to see. My legs feel weak, and my body hurts.
Then it happens.
Crack!
“Fuck!” I scream.
Pain shoots through my foot, and I collapse to the ground. I clasp my ankle to find a jagged stick stuck through the arch of my foot. I sink my teeth into my lip to stop myself fromscreaming again, biting so hard that I taste blood, and yank the stick free.
The wound isn’t deep, but the pain radiates through my leg. As badly as I want to stop, I can’t.
My freedom is on the line.
I force myself up and stumble forward, limping through the trees and praying I find a road soon.
Air leaves my lungs when a crushing weight slams into my back.
I hit the ground hard. Hands seize my wrist, pinning them to the ground so tight I’m positive he wants to break my bones. He shoves my face into the dirt.
I try to fight him off as his heavy breath grazes the back of my neck.
