Page 102 of The Stolen Princess
Myka turned toward the table. “I’m going to turn off the light.”
Dawsick seemed to like that idea, and he released her. She walked as slowly as she could to the table. A snail would have beat her there. Then she fumbled with the lantern like she didn’t know how it worked. Behind her, Dawsick staggered to the cot. He fell down on the edge in a heap and placed his head in his hands. She looked at the lantern again, taking her time.
“Shoooo comin’?” he asked.
His speech seemed to be getting worse. She looked over her shoulder with an overdone smile. “Yeah, I’m just turning the light off.” Then she took another ten seconds messing with the lantern again.
“Now!” he shouted, startling her.
She twisted the light off, darkening the room. Her mind panicked. What if the drugs didn't do anything? What else could she do for self-defense? If she screamed, would Drake or one of the other men hear her? Would Drake save her?
Slowly, she walked to the cot. Dawsick lay back, pulling her with him so that her chest was on top of his.
This was bad.
So bad.
He seemed to be intoxicated enough that she could probably fight him and stand a chance, despite his training and his strength.
Dawsick closed his eyes, and his breathing became labored. Myka’s body went still. She didn’t want to move a muscle for fear that he would remember she was there and try to kiss her again. They lay like that for a minute. His body jerked unexpectedly, and his eyelids lifted open. He mumbled something that Myka couldn’t understand, then he closed his eyes again. Carefully, she lifted herself off his body. He groaned and mumbled again but didn’t do anything to go after her.
Myka reached under the bed, grabbing her shoes, all the while keeping one eye fixed on him. She made quick work of her shoes and stood. She glanced over Dawsick. He looked passed out to her, but she couldn’t be sure. She didn’t want to make her move too soon.
Silently she counted to five hundred. That seemed like a good amount. When the counting was up, she bent over his body, whispering, “Dawsick?”
He didn’t move.
She said it louder. “Dawsick?”
Nothing.
This was her chance.
She tiptoed to the door and twisted the handle. He’d unlocked all of the chains when he’d come to visit her. Quietly, she pulled the door back, trying to avoid the creaking of the hinges. Her head peeked out. The camp was dark, and off in the distance, the dying embers of the fire glowed, but she couldn’t see anyone out there by it.
She needed a horse.
Or better yet, a personal transporter.
Kase had ridden a personal transporter back from Tolsten House. If she could take that, she’d be able to travel much faster. She walked behind the shacks with deliberate, slow steps. She hadn’t come this far only to be discovered. At the end of the row, near where Winslow and Kase slept, was one PT. She wouldn’t be able to start the machine up and drive out of there. She would have to push it out until she was far enough away that the engine couldn’t be heard.
She moved to release the kickstand and pressed her hands against the handlebars, slowly rolling the machine forward. It wasn’t as easy as it looked. The PT was heavy, and it took all of Myka’s strength to roll it forward. Her feet dug into the ground for leverage, and when she finally got far enough away, she turned on the engine. The solar power light grew to the top, and Myka sighed.
Fully charged.
Her legs straddled over the top of the machine, and she pressed the lever forward. Luckily, riding a PT was something she had done before. When the first set of personal transporters had been delivered to Tolsten House a few years ago, Myka’s father had let her ride one before anyone else was allowed.
She looked over her shoulder back to camp;no onewas coming for her. She wanted to escape, but there was a very human part inside of her that ached and wished that Drake would be there, telling her that he was sorry, telling her that he wanted to be with her. But he wasn’t there. She turned back around, leaving the camp behind.
Myka didn’t knowexactly where she was going, but her geography lessons of Tolsten and what she had seen of their ride to the camp made her confident that she needed to head south. She rode all night long, and when she passed Lambeau Lake with the old stadium sticking out of it, she knew she was headed in the right direction. The power signal on the PT was getting low, and she breathed a sigh of relief when the sun finally came up from the west. It wouldn’t take long for the solar panels to recharge the machine. By night fall, she should arrive at Tolsten House.
Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the chilly fall air, freezing her skin. She used the arm of her jacket to swipe at another tear, mad at herself for crying at all. She should be happy. She’d escaped. But happiness wasn’t what she felt. Everything inside of her was lost and broken. Her father was dead, and her memories of their time together were haunted by his lies.
Another wave of tears poured out of her.
Her future was torn apart. She wasn’t a princess anymore—or a daughter. When the election was over, someone new would move into Tolsten House and kick her out onto the street. The only people she had were Rommel and Joett. Her mother had abandoned her, but right now, what pierced her heart the most, was the way Drake had used her.
She’d gone from the highest high to the lowest low. She had been in the clouds, lost in a dream, thinking that she and Drake could somehow fix everything that was wrong with the world. At the time, Myka hadn’t been worried about the fall. Drake would catch her. She just knew it.
