Page 82 of Seal My Fate

Fuck.

“Please don’t do this!” I beg. “Have mercy on us, please!” I make my voice desperate, and inch closer, like I’m about to throw myself at his feet. “You don’t want to hurt us; I know you don’t. You’re better than this! All your good work at the Foundation; you’re a decent man, I know you are!”

Hugh pauses, smirking like he’s enjoying this.

“I’ll do anything!” My pleas echo, pathetic—and covering for the fact I’m still inching closer to him, playing at being hysterical. “I don’t want to die,” I wail, taking another step closer. “Please, just let us go. I’ll do anything you want. Anything at all.Please!”

One more step, sobbing… Another, then—

I lunge for him, putting my head down and tackling him straight in the midriff.

“Oof!” Hugh sounds a grunt of surprise, stumbling back. He fires the gun, but I’m already sending the both of us hurtling to the ground.

BANG!

“Run, Wren!” I scream, struggling to keep Hugh down. He fires again, right beside my head, making my ears ring, and I can only hope it goes wide. “RUN!”

Hugh rolls, pinning me down, his hands moving to my throat. Oh God. He grips hard, choking me with a look of pure fury in his eyes.

I gasp for air, grabbling blindly for the nearest thing. The chair. It’s just an old metal stool, but I grab it by one leg and swing wildly at Hugh’s head. It cracks against the back of his skull with a sickening crunch, hard enough to send him toppling over.

I scramble out from under him and find Wren still cowering in the corner. “Come on!” I scream at her, grabbing her hand and yanking her from the room. We stumble over Hugh’s groaning body, racing towards the stairs. “This way!”

I dash upwards, Wren following fast behind me as we sprint up the narrow, winding staircase. The door at the top is open, and I hurl myself through it, emerging in a dim hallway with light coming from a window at the end. There’s a laundry room nearby… A tiled hallway, leading to more storage rooms…

The place is deserted. The whole family is in London for the big wedding, and they must have given the staff the weekend off.

“Which way?” Wren asks fearfully.

I look around, trying to remember the layout of the grand, sprawling manor house. I visited once before, for a party, but I’d been too swept up in Saint, focused on sneaking away for stolen kisses instead of clocking all the exit routes.

Now, I have a vague recollection of the servant’s areas, leading to the kitchens, and a garage housing Saint’s father’s vintage car collection —

“Over here!” I blurt, racing for the far door. “If we can get to the garage, we can take a car and get the hell out of here!”

We bomb down another maze of hallways, past more utility rooms, until I find the entrance to the garage. It’s a vast, echoing space, the size of a showroom, with glass doors at one end and rows of classic cars lined up, gleaming on display. Bentley, Porsche, Ferrari… But where the hell are all the keys?

Wren and I hurry down the aisle, pausing by a stack of gasoline cans and other auto equipment. “Do you see a valet box?” I ask desperately. “Any way to get one out of here?”

“No,” Wren cries, looking around. “I can’t see—”

BANG!

A gunshot ricochets, smashing the windscreen on one of the cars nearby.

Wren lets out a scream, and I grab her, knocking over crates and cans as we drive behind the nearest vehicle for cover.

BANG! Another shot rings out, too close.

“Nice try, but your little fun and games are over,” Hugh’s voice calls. His footsteps echo on the ground, moving closer. “There’s no way out of here. And I can’t let you leave… Not alive, anyway.”

Wren and I exchange a panicked look. There’s nowhere to run. We’re cornered here, with nothing but solid brick behind us, and Hugh approaching from the only exit.

“When you get the chance, run,” Wren whispers, giving me a shove. “I’ll distract him.”

“Wren, no!” I gasp.

“You’re always the one trying to save me,” she says with a sad smile. “It’s my turn now.”

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