Page 27 of Betraying Family Vows
My heart races as I fumble with the knot on my other hand. Once both hands are free, I scramble to untie my ankles and nearly fall over in the process.
I'm free in under a minute.
I stand, legs trembling as blood rushes back into them. The borrowed clothes hang loose on me, and I have to roll the waistband twice to keep them from falling.
I creep to the door where Dimitri exited and press my ear against it. Nothing.
No footsteps. No voice.
Where the hell is he?
I try the handle. Locked from the outside.
"Fuck."
I spin and rush toward the kitchen, every board creaking under me like it's announcing my escape.
There's a window above the sink. It's my way out.
I run over to it and unlatch it, pushing it up. It's hard at first and moves slowly. I push harder and it slides up.
I freeze, listening for anything.
Nothing.
I push at the screen, but it's fixed firmly in place. No time for finesse. I step back, looking for something, anything, to break it with.
My elbow bumps something. I turn to see a lamp on a side table.
I grab it, yanking the cord from the wall. The base is heavy ceramic.
I throw it at the screen. The lamp shatters against the window frame, ceramic shards flying everywhere. The screen tears but doesn't break completely.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
If he wasn't making his way back here, he's definitely coming now.
I use my hands to tear at the damaged screen, ripping it further until there's a hole big enough for my body. Without hesitation, I hoist myself onto the counter, my knee hitting the faucet as I wiggle through the opening and tumble out, landing with a painful thud on the hard dirt outside.
The fall knocks the wind out of me. For a moment, I can only lie there, struggling to breathe, staring up at the star-filled sky.
Get up. Get moving. NOW.
I scramble to my feet and wipe my palms on my pants to remove the dirt.
There are trees and olive groves everywhere. I don't know where to go, so I just start running.
The ground is rough beneath my bare feet. Rocks and sticks dig into my soles, but I don't slow. I can't. The borrowed sweatpants slip on my hips with each stride. I grip them with my left hand to hold them up without breaking my pace.
I hear no sound behind me. No footsteps.
Maybe he didn't hear. Maybe he left? Maybe. But maybe I'm fast enough to get away.
Then I hear it.
"Athena!"
His voice is dark and dangerous and sounds like it's coming from every direction.
