Page 64 of In the Midst of Chaos

It would break his heart if something happened to me and in his memory, and for my sake, I couldn’t allow that to happen.

My body was achy from the crash, and my arms burned from the rope. All of that couldn’t matter right now. I whipped the rope at him, trying to hit his face. He was faster than me and with more energy. He grabbed hold of the rope and pulled it, taking me with him. I used his pull to my advantage, letting him do the hard work, and as soon I was close enough, I kicked him with all the energy I could muster.

He fell backward, his body hitting the ground hard. I took the rope and wrapped it against my hands as I came down and straddled him, then choked him with it. He moved to try to push me off him. I gritted my teeth, ignoring the pain that was shooting through me. My body bucked with this need to survive.

“Fin,” Duncan gritted out as he watched me. “He’s dead.”

I looked down at the man through my tears. I didn’t know if I was crying because of the pain or because I had taken another life, or maybe it was because I was finally feeling my heartbreak.

His mouth hung open, and his lifeless eyes stared back at me. I got off him, my chest heaving as if I had run a marathon. I used my legs to turn him over, and I searched his back pocket for a gun, but he had a hunting knife. I was glad he hadn’t used it, or else I might have been dead.

No one ever took women seriously enough. That’s why they made sure Duncan had been the incapacitated one and left me tied. My father told me that what we women lacked in strength, we made up with intelligence and deceit.

“You have the advantage to use your claws, to fight as dirty as you want, and these men won’t think twice. The mere fact that you don’t have a dick will make them underestimate you. Always use it to your advantage.

Grabbing the knife, I used it to cut the ropes that bound Duncan together. I kept watching the door, waiting to see if someone else would come for us.

Once Duncan was free, I helped him sit up. I took the knife and gave it to him.

“I’m torn between killing you myself or fucking you because that was fucking stupid.” He glared at me. “But it was hot.”

I smiled as he used his sleeve to wipe my tears.

“I love you,” I told him as I pressed the knife to his hand. “Anyone comes here, you kill them.”

“Finnegan,” he started, but I stopped him.

“We are both fucked if we stay here.”

He knew I had a point. I leaned in to kiss his cheek, but the little fucker moved his head and kissed me on the lips.

“Don’t die, or Nash will castrate me,” he joked.

I pulled away without looking back at him and silently made my way to the stairs. I took them up one by one to avoid making them creak. Relief spread through me when I saw that the door had been left open.

I waited at the top of the stairs, trying to calm myself.

All I could think of was that intense feeling I had when the anxiety hit like I wanted to pee. There would be no Nash coming to step in and save me from the rabid dogs.

I could hear the television on. It sounded like a game was playing, and I wondered how many more people were in the house.

Today was not the day I chose to die.

Taking one deep breath, I walked through the door. My main goal was to get Duncan out of this alive, even if it meant I had to protect him with my own life.

Stepping across the threshold, I could see this house was a front. Nothing personal covered the walls, just enough things to make it seem like someone lived here and not arouse suspicion. A man was watching the television. His back was to me, and he didn’t even turn around since he was too engrossed in the game.

I took a step back, trying to see what was on the other side. It was the kitchen, but I couldn’t see a fucking knife. My heart sped up as I saw the door, and I contemplated running out and calling for help, but I couldn’t abandon Duncan.

Besides, trying to open it would alert whoever was at the front, and I still didn’t know if people guarded the house.

Just as I was going to turn around, I screamed as I saw a shadow behind me.

“A donde vas,” he spoke to me in Spanish.

I had no idea what he was telling me; my Spanish had always been rusty. The linguistic one of us was Huxley. I started thrashing around, but I had already spent most of my energy.

He grabbed my head and slammed it against the table. Pain exploded, going from my head to my body.

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