Page 60 of Horror and Chill
I buck in Garron’s grip, my lungs screaming behind the tape, but it’s useless. They carry me out, down the hall, through the cool night air, straight to the SUV waiting at the curb.
I fight until my muscles burn, but they don’t loosen, don’t slow. My last thought before the dark swallows me is simple.
Please, let them have meant it when they swore they wouldn’t kill me.
23
Corwin
She’s kickinglike a wild thing in Garron’s arms, head thrashing side to side, the tape already pulling at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes keep finding me, burning through the dark like she thinks she can set me on fire.Cute.
The SUV door slams behind her, echoing through the quiet street. Garron shoves her across the seat, his arm heavy across her chest until she stops trying to bite him through the gag. She glares up at me, cheeks flushed from the fight, breath sharp through her nose.
I grin. “Settle in, Little Horror. Long drive ahead.”
Her stifled curse rattles through the tape, but I catch every ounce of rage in her eyes. It makes my cock stir and my fists itch at the same time. I like her better feral. I want to see what happens when the feral turns desperate.
Evander slides into the driver’s seat, calm as a corpse, already buckling in like we’re on a family road trip. Garron takes the far side of her. I climb in last, pinning her between us before slamming the door shut.
She jerks away. Garron shoves her back into place.
“Don’t make me hogtie you,” he mutters.
Her muffled sound is pure venom.
I chuckle low in my chest. “Let her try. I like the fight.”
Evander glances at me in the mirror. “Try not to break her before we get there.”
I lick my lips slowly, making sure she sees. “No promises.”
The SUV growls to life. Streetlights pass in long stripes, washing her face in gold, then shadow. Every flicker makes me want to grab her chin and force her to look at me. She keeps trying to look anywhere else—out the window, at the floor, at Garron—but not at me. That won’t last.
“Still sticking to the plan?” Evander asks, eyes on the road.
“Yes, it’s clear,” Garron answers.
We’re headed to the cabin. Our family’s vacation place. More woods than walls. Built for hiding, built for bleeding. If she thought she was being hunted before, she hasn’t seen shit yet.
She shifts against the seat, wrists straining against Garron’s grip. Her garbled voice strains at the tape, desperate words I almost make out. I pivot fully toward her, my shoulder pressing against hers, my face only inches from her ear.
“What was that?” I murmur. “Say it again.”
She whips her head toward me and snarls through the gag, spit dampening the tape. I laugh loud enough to make Evander sigh.
“She hates you,” Garron chuckles, holding her tighter.
“She’ll love me first,” I shoot back.
That earns me another glare from her.
“Mmmm Feisty,” I grin. “I’ll remember that later.”
The miles roll by. She stops thrashing eventually, sitting rigid between us, her chest heaving under the thin sleep shirt. Her thighs are bare and tight together, her wrists flexing like she’s counting the seconds until she can cut us open.
I can feel the thoughts clawing behind her eyes. She’s smart enough to know the gag won’t last forever. And inquisitive enough that she’ll ask the one question that matters:why her.
I decide not to wait.
