Page 98 of Rafe: Sins of the Father

“We have to get to the garage,” I say.

“They play video games until late. The latest time they’ve come to check on me has always been about 2am. We need to go about 3am.”

“I don’t have a watch.”

“There’s one on the nightstand.”

A wave of nausea sweeps over me. “I feel sick. I think I’m going to throw up.”

Fiona guides me to the bathroom and holds my hair back. Throwing up with my hands restrained behind my back makes it so much worse. When I’m done, she wipes my face. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Tori?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you be pregnant?”

My eyes widen, and my mouth drops open, and I try to count back in my head to when my last period was.

“I’m judging by that look on your face, the answer is yes.”

“Oh, my God. We’ve got to get out of here.”

She wraps her arms around me, and I sob into her shoulder. “If my plan doesn’t work, then we’ll figure something else out. I promise.”

At 3am, we sneak down the hall. There’s a game room on a second-floor loft, and we have to walk right past them to get to the stairs. All three of them are sound asleep, controllers still in their hands.

We go so slowly, and Fiona helps me down the stairs so I don’t trip and fall.

We slip through the kitchen, and she motions me behind the island, then points at the knife block, then my hands. I nod and turn, and she carefully slices through the zip tie.

The relief is instantaneous. Tingles shoot to my fingers, and I make a face.

Fiona puts her finger to her lips, probably terrified I’m going to moan and wake them. Then her eyes fall on a stack of mail, and she picks a utility bill up, folds it in half, and shoves it in her pocket.

We make our way to the door to the garage, but I point at the sensor, mouthing the word,fuck.

“We have to risk it,” Fiona whispers. “We push through the door, and we get out as fast as we can.”

I nod.

“You ready?” she whispers.

I nod again.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Connor growls from over the upstairs railing.

“Go. Go, go, go,” I hiss, pushing Fiona through the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Connor vault over the railing and land in the kitchen, his two friends scrambling down the stairs behind him. “Holy fuck.”

There are three steps into the garage, and I run down them. Fiona is already at the garage door, slamming the metal slide to unlock it and haul the whole thing up two feet, then she dives on the ground and rolls under it.

Looking back at me, she slaps the concrete. “Run, Tori.”

I make a dive for the opening, but Connor tackles my legs and yanks me backward. I slide on my stomach, the opening growing farther away.

“Run, Fiona!” I shout and see her feet disappear. I hope she makes it. She has to make it.

---