I lean the side of my head against the wall beside me. “What do you think he wants with us?”
Dean continues to cause a ruckus, loud and shrill. “Don’t know. Don’t want to know.” Ding, ding, ding. Clank, clank, clank. “I’ll fucking kill you, motherfucker!” he shouts.
“He knows you can’t kill him. You’re chained to a pipe.”
Dean ceases his efforts to glare at me from across the cellar. “So, what, I’m supposed to just give up and rot down here? Not a chance.” Clank, clank, clank. “Help!”
“Do you think he wants you or me?”
I can hear Dean’s heavy breaths huffing and puffing from a few feet away. He hesitates before responding, a low hum skimming his lips. “You.”
God.
I close my eyes, forcing back a new wave of tears. A few drops slip through, sliding down my bruised cheeks and stalling at the edge of my jaw. I wipe them away with my shoulder. “I guess you’re the lucky one.”
“The lucky one? I’m chained to a fucking wall in a psychopath’s basement. At least you hold some kind of value. I’m a dead man.”
“I’d rather die than be of value to that sicko. You know what that means, right?” I curl my legs to my chest, bile gliding up my throat at the mere thought. “He’s going to rape me.”
A silence settles between us because, honestly, what is there to say?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
We both know what’s on the agenda for me and there’s nothing either one of us can do about it. Why he kidnapped Dean, I’m unsure—maybe because he saw the creep’s face?
A bitter anger seeps to the surface and I expel it the only way I know how. “I can’t believe I’m going to die down here with you of all people. The Powers That Be must really hate me.”
“Seriously?” Dean is quick to bite back. “We’re probably going to be gutted and sodomized, and you’re holding onto a high school grudge? Jesus, Cora.”
I try to balance myself on my high heels with wobbly ankles and pull myself up, sliding my chains up the pipe. My knees are shaking, and I almost collapse back down to the rubble. “Why didn’t you drive? I told you to drive.” The rising sun continues to spill more light into our hellhole, illuminating the look of outrage on Dean’s face. I look away, my jaw tight.
“Are you saying this is my fault? I was trying to save you.”
“If you would have just stepped on the gas, he would have let me go, and we’d be safe and warm in our own beds right now.” My resentment is spewing out of me, and maybe Dean doesn’t deserve it, but it’s easier this way. It’s easier than accepting the reality of our situation.
I can see him shaking his head at me, clearly insulted. “You’re really something else, Corabelle.”
I expect him to go on. I want him to say more. I wish he would take the bait and funnel his own fear and frustrations into petty rage and throw it right back at me. Give me all you got, Dean.
But that’s it. That’s all he says, and I feel hollow again.
I slide back down to my butt, the weight of my body, the weight of all of it, unable to hold me upright any longer. Dean sits down a few moments later, his legs sprawled out in front of him, leaning back against the pole with closed eyes. My own eyelids feel dry and brittle, almost acidic—like lemon peels. It hurts to blink.
Silence dances between us for a long time. The sun is up, shining its happy, brilliant rays into our dungeon, bringing to light the harrowing truth of our circumstances. I almost wish for the darkness. Most things can be masked in the dark.
My chin is to my chest when a door creaks open and bulky boots pound the stairsteps, one at a time.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
I jerk my head up and glance at Dean, who is looking at me with a similar uneasy expression. Our eyes hold tight as we both rise to our feet once more.
“My pets are awake,” the man declares when he appears at the base of the staircase. His belly is protruding from the too-short hem of his t-shirt and splotches of sweat stain his armpits.
Vomit swirls in the pit of my stomach and I want to wretch.
“What the hell do you want?” Dean commands, clanking his cuffs against the pole. “I have money. I can wire you everything in my account.”
The short, stubby man gargles his laughter, then coughs until he’s bending over and wheezing. When he regains his composure, he straightens and approaches us. His beady eyes hardly spare Dean a swift glance before he’s focused on me.
That same leering look from the night before is plastered on his face as he drinks me in, toes to top. His gaze settles on my cleavage, and I try to shift my shoulders to cover myself in some way, but my efforts are fruitless. I’m only making the swell of breasts jiggle and I think it’s turning him on. I inch my way backwards, as if I have somewhere to go—somewhere to hide.
“We’re going to have a lot of fun together, kitten,” he says to me, puckering his lips like a kiss and making a revolting purring sound.
I feel my resolve crumbling. My heart is racing beneath my ribcage, trying to make a break for it, and I have to tell it to calm down. There’s nowhere to run.
Dean starts beating his chains again, trying to distract the disgusting pig who is undressing me with his soulless, gray eyes. “This is stupid, man. We both have families. Jobs. Friends. They’re going to start looking for us—you’ll never get away with this.”
More gurgled laughter erupts from the man, but he doesn’t even look Dean’s way. He’s still eyeing my breasts, his tongue poking out to wet his thin lips. “Tessie Evans and her clown of a stepbrother said the same dumb shit to me,” he says, pacing forward. Getting closer. “Their flesh is compost out in my barn. Their bones make good chew toys for the dogs.”
I scream.
I scream and scream and scream, blinded by tears, shaking with terror.
“Please don’t do this. I don’t want to die,” I force out, kicking my legs at the man as he closes in on me. “No, no, no. Please.”
“Fuck!” Dean shouts from across the room, still going ballistic on his chains, as if that will somehow help. As if that will get us out of this mess.
“Save the fight for later, big boy,” the man hollers over to Dean, his focus pinned on me.
I can feel his foul breath skim my face. He smells like cooked carrots and gasoline mixed with rancid body odor. I squeeze my eyes tight, my shoulders bobbing up and down in time with my sobs. He leans in, further and further…
“Gimme a few hours, kitten, and I’ll show you a good time,” he mutters with a wink, his nose almost grazing mine. “I have to go make a car disappear first.”
Oh, God.
He steps backwards, cutting his eyes between me and Dean, then whirls around with a whistle and disappears up the staircase.
I fall to the ground—hard, crying and trembling.
There’s no doubt in my mind he’s going to kill us. He’s going to have his fun first, and then he’s going to slit our throats and feed our bodies to his dogs.
“Goddammit. God-fucking-dammit. Jesus fucking Christ.”
Dean is chanting away beside me, pacing the few steps he’s allowed to pace, then starts pulling forward against the pole, hoping to somehow break free. He tugs and strains through angry growls, and I’m actually worried his hands might separate from his wrists.