Page 60 of Demon

Before she can answer, I see it too. A man appears at her window, gun in hand. My heart slams against my ribs as fear floods my veins. It’s him—the same guy Jett stabbed outside the bar, his hand still wrapped in a bandage.

I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I’m drowning in terror.

EIGHTEEN

DUEL POV – MY BLOOD RUNS COLD

Ivy

A tapon my window startles me, making my heart race. It’s the larger man who was sitting in the passenger seat of the car outside the bar. His gun is aimed directly at my head. I thought I’d left all this behind me. These men are dangerous, and I know they won’t hesitate to pull the trigger. My breath catches painfully as I glance around the desolate parking lot. There’s no one around, just a scattering of parked cars. I silently pray someone will leave the store and notice us soon.

The man motions for me to roll down my window. I steal a glance at Milly, and she gives a small, reluctant nod. With shaky hands, I obey.

His wild eyes send shivers down my spine as he presses the gun to my temple. “Get out,” he seethes. “Both of you. Now.”

“I...” My voice falters. “I thought this was over. I didn’t think you were after me anymore.” My eyes flutter shut for a brief moment, regret washing over me. Jett had wanted to come with me, but by being Little Miss Independent I’ve shot myself in the foot.

“Get out of the car! Now, bitch,” he growls, dragging the last word out menacingly.

Trembling, I reach for the door handle and slowly step out, my movements hesitant and deliberate. One foot at a time. My pulse pounds in my ears.

His gaze shifts to Milly. “You too.”

“She has nothing to do with this,” I blurt out, my words rushed and desperate. “Take me instead.”

“I said,both of you, out!” His voice turns into a feral yell, spit flying as he speaks.

My throat tightens as fear lodges in it. With the gun digging into my back, I feel the cold, unspoken promise of violence. He herds me to their car. I slide into the backseat, followed by Milly. The man shoves me to the middle and slides in next to me; the other man gets into the driver’s seat. Dread swallows me whole as the car begins to move, each passing second a silent torment.

“Are you okay?” I whisper to Milly.

Before she can respond, a sharp sting shoots through my scalp as the man yanks my hair. “No talking,” he growls, his rage clear. The threat is unmissable.

Milly’s hand finds mine. She squeezes it, a rare source of comfort in this waking nightmare. We’re in this together, whether we like it or not.

I try to steady my thoughts, forcing myself to think clearly.Think smartreplays in my head. My eyes stay glued to the window as I memorize our route, hoping I’ll have a chance to alert someone or escape.

We pass through the familiar streets of Crown Village and into neighboring Opal Bay, a town I recall seeing on the map when I was deciding where to live. The suburbs give way to dilapidated houses with overgrown yards and boarded-up windows. The farther we drive, the more desolate it becomes.

My stomach churns as we turn onto a bumpy dirt road surrounded by nothing but wilderness. We bounce slightly from side to side. The road is rough, like it isn’t driven along often. I fight the rising urge to be sick. Out here, there’s no one to hear us. The thought hangs heavy in my mind.

The car finally stops outside a battered wooden cabin. The driver gets out and yanks open Milly’s door. The man beside me smirks. “Don’t run. Don’t do anything stupid. Or the other one will pay.” His tone is condescending and sharp like a blade.

Even though terror grips me, a flicker of anger sparks within. His smug, patronizing tone makes me want to lash out and kick him in the balls. But I know better. We both do. He knows our fear for each other’s safety will keep us in line.

We follow their commands, staying silent as we step out of the car and are ushered into the cabin. The air reeks of cigarette smoke and body odor, and the scratched floors and peeling walls only add to my unease. Two single beds sit in the middle of the room, and a closed door at the far end presumably leads to a bathroom. Milly and I take a seat on one of the beds, exchanging a wordless glance.

The larger man’s attention locks on me. “Here’s how this is going to work,” he begins, his voice calm and confident. “We’re going to the ATM. You’ll withdraw money. If it’s not enough, we’re heading to the bank to get more.”

I clasp and unclasp my hands, my palms clammy with sweat. “I already told my ex, and your leader knows this too”—I insist, forcing my voice to stay steady—“I don’t have the money. I’m not involved anymore. Come with me to the ATM, and you’ll see for yourself.”

He steps closer, and the slap comes without warning. Pain explodes across my cheek, and my head jerks to the side. Tears prick my eyes, but I clench my jaw, refusing to let him see me break.Asshole!

“Well,” he says, his voice dripping with malice, “your ex is lying in a hospital bed as we speak. And guess what? We aren’t leaving this town until we get what we came for. We’re not going back empty-handed.”

A flicker of relief crosses my mind at the knowledge that my ex is still alive, though it’s fleeting. Any concern for his well-being is drowned out by my own need to survive.

“I can’t just make the money appear out of thin air,” I blurt out, at once regretting my boldness. My heart races as I realize my defiance has likely signed me up for more pain. I have to survive for my daughter—I have to stay calm and focused.

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