Page 70 of Throne of Secrets

Silence.

Then … the distinct, high-pitchedsqueakingof something small and furry.

A rat.

Star’s eyes widened in horror as she felt the tiny claws scrabble over her legs.

“GO AWAY! HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!” she shrieked, her voice bouncing off the warped metal walls.

The rat, completely unimpressed by her plight, skittered up her thigh before darting away. Star’s entire body jerked instinctively—and nothing happened.

No slicing, no impalement, no tragic headline about a woman getting turned into a human kebab in an abandoned shed.

Her breath caught as she assessed her surroundings. The fallen metal sheet had wedged itself against the floor and wall. It was jammed tight. Thank God.

She shifted, turning as carefully as a person dismantling a bomb, and twisted onto her back. Her wrists faced the jagged metal.

“Slowly.”

She exhaled in a controlled release, inhaled deeply, and pushed her bound hands back. Her fingers brushed the rusted edge.

Carefully, she began sawing the thick zip ties against the rusty metal. The effort was exhausting. She used a slow, agonizing repetition that sent sharp pain radiating up her arm to her aching shoulder. Sweat coated her skin, making her wrists slick, and she prayed it was just sweat.Please, please don’t let that be blood.

Her shoulder screamed, a fiery ache that threatened to break her focus, but she gritted her teeth and kept going.

Up. Down. Again and again.

Her vision blurred as sweat rolled into her eyes.

Was she making progress? Was she just slowly torturing herself for nothing?

Then—SNAP!

“Oh!” Her arm flew up, and the other crashed into the storage shed's wooden floor as the plastic strap gave way. The sudden freedom sent her sprawling onto her face.

Breathless, Star clawed herself away from the rusted metal and sat up. Every muscle throbbed, but she couldn’t stop now. She braced against the shed’s warped wall and worked her feet into position.

The sharpest piece of metal was about three inches off the ground. She could use it like a saw if she lifted her legs just right.

It was an ab workout from hell.

“If I get out of this alive, Iwillstart going to the gym,” she groaned between exhausted pants.

Lifting her legs took an obscene amount of effort, and the burn in her core made her want to cry, but she kept at it, gritting her teeth through the tremors cramping her legs and stomach.

“You can do this.” The mantra ran on repeat in her head. The sun’s angle had shifted. It was glaring through a warped seam in the metal wall. She didn’t have much time.

Her muscles spasmed, her calves tightening so hard she nearly screamed. Tears burned behind her eyelids.

“Come on! You can do this!”

She used her hands to lift her legs and forced them down in one final, desperate push.

The plastic gave.

Her legs snapped forward.

The rusted edge of the roof slashed through her slacks, and pain flared, white-hot and searing.

---