Page 113 of Twisted Revelations

54

Luke

My brows pinched tight, pulling against the thundering ache in my head. A slow swaying effect urged me to open my eyes. Light pouring in from above blurred my vision and made it difficult to make out what surrounded me.

Crumbling cement walls, ash gray, at least a standard size room. A brown mini refrigerator sat in the corner next to a triple stack of black crates that had been turned into a makeshift bookshelf, stuffed with books. More books sat stacked at least four-feet high along the wall. There was a dark recessed area that led into another space.

Someone had once called this place home, but the thick coat of dust that had settled revealed they’d moved or abandoned it. The squeaky whine drew my head up, painting a picture that sent my gaze tracing the room and down my shirtless, battered body.

Tied to the ceiling, my wrists were pulled taut, the thick rope digging into my skin, choking my circulation. Dax hung beside me, bloody and beaten and knocked out. The sequence of events that had led us to this moment came back into my memory with hesitation.

Our capture on the highway. The drugs we’d been injected with. We’d been tied up and beaten for the whereabouts of Megan, Aaron, and the rest of the crew that had attacked this farm over six months ago. These people wanted good, old-fashioned revenge.

“Shit,” I muttered through my busted lip. They’d threatened to kill Beverly and Laura, who’d unknowingly thrown themselves into the middle of a war while searching for Megan. Their secret was what had gotten us all dragged to this infamous farm. I wanted to strangle them for their deception, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t going to fight for them. If I could help it, I wasn’t going to let anyone hurt them.

My gaze bounced around the tight space. We had to find a way out. “Dax,” I called, angling my head in his direction. “Dax,” I called louder. Since my feet had been left dangling, I grunted as I lifted and wobbled, attempting to kick Dax. When that didn’t work, I fishtailed my body to get it to start swinging. My wrists were about ready to rip apart from my arms, but I ignored the painful pull and focused on getting the momentum going.

Once I was swinging like a heavy pendulum, a sharp twist on the swing back was enough for my leg to collide with Dax’s body. He stirred and released a weak groan. “Dax, we have to find a way out of these ropes before they come back.” The sound of his groan was his response.

Every hair on my body stood at the sound of an urgent scream.

“Luke!”

The sound lingered, filling me with the urgent need to rip myself free by any means necessary. “Luke!”

Beverly’s desperate tone highlighted her urgent need. Her sharp voice let me know she wasn’t far away. Our captors wanted us to hear the women being tortured. Dax was fully awake now, his searching gaze finding mine.

“They left my shoes on,” he pointed out. Despite the tension riding my body, Dax’s update provided a touch of relief. We were shirtless, but they’d left us in our pants and shoes. The fact that I had shoes on meant nothing, but Dax having them on meant everything.

“Start swinging,” I urged. “We need to find a way to make our bodies collide.” Another set of screams sounded. Neither of us commented on the sounds, but we swung our bodies back and forth like we were in training for a jungle tree-hopping race.

We’d managed to get our bodies to collide three times before Dax’s legs connected enough to latch on to mine. With careful movements, he climbed up my body. When his feet reached my thigh, I bent and lifted my knees, giving him a boost.

It was grueling on Dax’s part. The straining and grunting could attract attention, but it couldn’t be helped. I lifted my knees as high as I could, assisting Dax’s climb. His goal was to get to the ropes I was hanging from.

His feet inched across my chest, his hard shoes kicking and digging into my already bruised skin. When his feet were at my neck, I angled my head every way imaginable to assist them to rise higher. We battled gravity with no hands and pushed our tortured bodies.

One of Dax’s feet was clamped under my neck, the other sat atop my head as he struggled for breaths. His leg shook with the effort he used to raise it, attempting to angle it just right.

“Your thumb, Luke, move it straight up,” he instructed. My hands were so numb that I couldn’t tell if I’d pressed the nook that would release the knife in his shoe until the spring-loaded blade sounded.

Now the hard part. Cutting the rope without cutting my wrist or losing our connection. Dax moved leisurely, using the leverage of our connection to move the blade across the rope.

The moment the rope started to unravel, my body lurched as the strings ripped and nearly lost us our connection. The sight of Dax’s blade swinging past my right eye was not a welcome one. Thankfully, I hadn’t lost an eye, and we stayed together.

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