Page 25 of Deadly Sacrifice

Belatedly, I realize the car has stopped moving at some point. Unfortunately, that’s worse for my debilitating fear. At least if the car is moving, the driver is too busy to hurt me. But now that we’ve stopped, who knows where this night will lead me?

I wait in silence while the seconds tick by. A car door opens, closes, and footsteps grow louder. I slam my eyes shut with a defeated sob, anticipating the trunk to open and a knife or something to come right at me.

Only nothing happens.

He stops walking for a brief moment, but then those footsteps carry him away until I can’t hear anything except for my heart thrashing wildly.

I wait.

I don’t do a single thing except breathe and listen.

When I’m positive it’s been at least ten minutes of silence, I take a deep, desperate lungful of air, and then do another less panicked sweep around the trunk for the release tab. Still nothing. I try to be quiet while I feel for something I can use to break my way out, though I don’t know why I bother. Either the guy who kidnapped me from my bed is right outside, ready to snatch me up the second I find a way out, or he’s long gone and any noise I make is lost to the wind.

Rationally, I know I should still be careful.

Just in case.

But my rational brain has fled the scene.

“Help!” I scream, pounding my fists on the trunk door. “Somebody help me! Let me out!” Over and over again, I scream and cry and bang my knuckles against the metal until my hands are bloody. Is it just me or is the oxygen getting thin? I drag in a deep breath, readying my lungs for another bout of yelling, but all that comes out this time is a choked up, “Please, let me out.”

I’m tired. I’m cold. My body hurts from being cramped and tense for however long I’ve been locked in here. There are no sounds coming from beyond the trunk, no signs that anyone is coming to save me.

“Help me,” I plead, smacking my flat palms against the trunk and kicking my feet to make as much noise as I can. I instantly regret it when I hear footsteps again.

Oh, fuck. It’s that guy coming back to finish me off.

That’s the only thought running — no screaming — through my mind while I struggle to catch my breath and ignore the aches and sharp pains all over my body. I ready myself for the fight of my life, staring at the place where the trunk will open, counting the seconds leading up to my impending death.

Sure enough, the trunk opens, but I’m too much of a coward to look my attacker in the eye. I slam my eyes shut, holding my fists up in front of my face like a barrier while I try not to whimper in terror.

“Prudence? Holy shit.”

Hands grab for me, fingers curling around my wrists and trying to pull me up.

“No, don’t touch me! Let me go!” I plead, twisting out of his hold as my heart hammers against my ribs.

“Hey, Ember, it’s me,” he rushes to say as the hands that were grabbing me disappear. “It’s Creed.”

I blink my eyes open in disbelief, but as soon as his name filters into my ears, the sound of his voice is instantly familiar. It takes my eyes a second to adjust to the dark night behind him, but once I know for sure, I reach for him instead of fighting it. “Get me out of here,” I beg, my voice scratchy and raw.

Creed doesn’t hesitate to reach in and cradle his arms around me, lifting me out of the trunk with ease. His face is etched in concern while he carries me straight through the woods and back to campus.

As much as I want to curl into his embrace, I feel too raw, too triggered right now to be so close to him. I squirm in his arms, murmuring, “Please put me down. I’d like to walk.”

He glances down at me, studying my face before reluctantly nodding.

I slide down his lean body, my legs feeling like jelly when my feet touch the ground. I keep my hand on his arm for support, but other than that, I hold my own weight. I’m used to it by now. It’s what I’ve had to do for years.

We walk in silence through the thick trees, following the tire tracks that eventually lead us back to civilization. I don’t know if it’s my body language or my still rapid breathing while I try to compose myself, but Creed seems to understand that I’m not capable of any kind of conversation yet. And I appreciate it more than I could ever say.

It’s probably twenty minutes before we make it to Greek row. He walks me up the steps to the Alpha Chi Omega house, but before I can reach for the door and go hide away inside, he stands in front of it.

I sigh. “Creed, I’m tired.”

He cups my face in his hands, a deep frown on his handsome face. “That’s fine, Ember. I’ll get you to bed. But I’m not leaving your side tonight, so don’t try to send me away,” he tells me.

I open my mouth to argue, but truthfully, the thought of being alone in my room sends needles down my spine. Struggling to stop my emotions from rising again, I croak, “Okay... Thanks for—“

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