Page 104 of Bound to a Killer
What now? How the hell am I supposed to get out of here?
Shuddering from the rageful vibrations ripping through my body, I paw at my jeans for my phone, something I should’ve done long before ending up in this place.
Once it’s in my hand, I flick it on and check for the battery in the corner. Forty-nine percent. Good. My eyes slide over to the other side. 10:27 p.m. Clara might still be awake.
My fingers shake as I swipe on her name, watching her profile picture enlarge on the screen as the call rings through. I bring the phone to my ear.
I fidget in my seat, knees bumping together as it rings. The longer it carries on without her picking up, the lower my heart sinks, until the familiar voicemail beep drops it straight into my stomach. I hang up and text her instead.
It’s not that late. She’ll see it in a second.
I stare at my one-line message until the text bubble blurs out of focus and the screen eventually dims, still unanswered. Shit. I tap it again, fingers more urgent this time, then hit call. Please. She needs to answer. Come on, Clara. I don’t have anyone else I can call right now.
It goes to voicemail. Again.
My teeth graze the side of my thumb as I weigh my options, whether to try again or accept that I’ll probably be stuck sleeping in my car until morning. I haven’t made up my mind when a loud knock on the window jolts me upright.
I yelp, startled, my thumb flinching from its place at my lip as the phone wobbles in my grip.
A large hand appears against the window, palm pressed flat. Fingers curl into a fist before another harder knock.
I jolt again, a choked cry breaking loose as I fling myself back in the seat, shoulders cinched tight. Panic barrels in, a tidal surge crashing through me, stealing the air from my lungs as I huddle near the center console.
I remain curled up there, the hard edges digging into my side as I press as far back as I can, jaw clenched so tight it hurts, breath lodged in my throat.
I’m all alone.
Stuck.
No gas. No one to pick up my calls. Not that it’ll matter in the span of the next few seconds if he breaks through the glass.
My limbs grow cold and stiff, a numbing wave creeping over me from head to toe. Renewed tears run down my cheeks in scalding rivulets, eyes screwed shut until I finally realize it’s silent.
Only then do I open my eyes, lashes fluttering through the moisture, attention fixed on my window.
He’s gone.
Nothing but a handprint remains, smeared against the glass, and the stretch of darkness engulfing where he stood.
Instinct takes over as I scramble to double check the locks, needing to feel that small click beneath my fingers, proof that I still have some barrier between me and whatever’s out there.
My ribs throb as my heart ricochets through my chest. I glance down at my phone, swiping off Clara’s profile and switching to the only other person I can call.
His name glows on my screen. The last message between us is from the night he called before prom. Heat pricks at my cheeks, blooming up the way it always does when Ledger crosses my mind. I hesitate, finger trembling over his number, my lip caught between my teeth, nerves drawn tight, but it doesn’t take long before I press call.
The faintest, quickest ping, something that could’ve been a tiny pebble or insect tapping against my windshield, jolts me. I clutch the phone tighter to my chest, my breath caught hard in my throat as I wait. My eyes dart through the front, nerves stretched thin, every inch of me braced for the next intrusive sound to send me into another panic spiral.
He’s my last hope. I don’t know if whoever’s out there will come back, or if he’ll be alone, or bring others. But I know one thing: loitering out here means danger. The longer I wait, the worse it can get.
Only criminals and predators prowl places like this at night, and even though I’m calling someone just as lethal, I know I’ll be safer with him.
I’m always safe with him.
Even if that safety comes in the presence of my former captor, a man I’ve seen murder up close, whose boundaries are stretched far beyond normal.
I lift the phone to my ear, pulse pounding in my temple as it rings. He doesn’t pick up right away, my body buzzing with unease, until finally, he answers, his voice a deep gravel, like I’ve woken him.
“Aria?”
