Page 22 of Cruel Redemption

“Enzo, there is no traffic out there. This cabin is remote. For a good reason. It’s not as if someone is going to walk by and hear us. That would be stupid. Utterly ridiculous. Do you know how dumb that sounds? Do you even hear yourself right now? What are you thinking?” I was exasperated with him. Did he have to be optimistic all the fucking time?

“Hey, hey. I’m sorry.”

My hands had begun to shake. I didn’t realize just how harsh I sounded until I saw the look on Enzo’s face.

“I-I didn’t mean that, Enzo. I don’t know why I said it that way. I’m the one who is sorry.”

He moved from the window. “Hey, it’s not easy being stuck in here and not knowing when we’ll get out. I don’t blame you. It’s okay. You’re just letting off steam.”

“Still. I shouldn’t have said it that way.”

“We’re both frustrated. And hungry,” he added. “But they should bring a tray down soon. They do it like clockwork.”

I blinked. “What?” The fear rippled in my chest. I must have misheard what he said.

“You know, the guy who leaves the tray at the bottom of the stairs.”

I shook my head, realizing, the cabin had morphed into part of the basement. There was a staircase where the kitchen table used to be. The staircase. And cement walls replaced the wood paneling. I turned to tell Enzo something about this prison I recognized. I needed him to know it was the same kidnapper. It had to be. We were in the basement. I knew this place well. When I turned he was gone. Vanished.

God, the nightmare was different now. It had come back stronger.

I pushed off the bed, aware of how tender my head was from the headache. The pounding hadn’t eased much. I waited a second to get my bearings before trying to take a step. I didn’t like feeling dizzy on top of everything else.

The door handle rattled, and I saw the deadbolt twist.

This time I ran straight toward it.

Thirteen

Luka

The plan felt loose and flimsy and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep up this charade.

I should have driven faster, but something kept me from pressing the gas pedal all the way to the floor.

I thought about the Petrovs. I thought about Katya. I thought about Enzo. I couldn’t help but wonder which life would be better for her; the one on the run always checking over her shoulder waiting for the Petrovs to catch up to her, or the one where she stayed in a loveless controlling marriage with a family who looked right through her every night at the dinner table. I inhaled, thinking she had no good choices. She had to decide between the worst and darkest options in front of her. It made me sick to think that my light sweet sister had nothing but fear and hard decisions ahead of her.

The screen on my dashboard lit up with a call. It was Katya.

“What’s going on? I know I missed the world’s greatest cheesecake.”

“Oh my God. I don’t know what to do.” She was panicked and out of breath.

“Okay. Okay. Slow down and tell me what’s going on.” I waited for an explanation. Everything had been boring and uninteresting twenty minutes ago.

“Enzo’s parents,” she began. “They called me at the restaurant.”

“What? Why would they do that? Why did you answer?” I didn’t mean to berate her.

She lowered her voice. “Because Enzo was supposed to be at his mom’s birthday dinner tonight and he didn’t show.”

“Fuck.” I hit the steering wheel. “You didn’t mention that detail.” I was angry. I had asked for every piece of information. This was a loose end that could cause problems.

“I didn’t tell you because I forgot all about it until they called me tonight,” she explained. “Luka, they went to his apartment.”

“Shit,” I muttered. “What did you tell them?” I asked.

“I didn’t know what to say,” she answered. “I tried to stall, but they didn’t listen. I said I’d go check on him, but they were going to go no matter what I said.”

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