Page 65 of Hell on Wheels

“And the biker?”

“I’ll break up with him.”

Fred’s cruel grin appeared a couple of seconds before he slapped me. Hard. “That’s for running away.” Another slap followed, landing on the opposite cheek. “And that’s for making me hunt you down.”

The skin stung on both sides of my face.

I didn’t cry. I wouldn’t. He didn’t deserve my tears.

Breathing hard, I noticed my clothes dampening with sweat. Terror gripped me. Would he leave me to die? Where was Flint? Would he find me in time?

Fred reached into a pocket, pulling out the key to the handcuffs. He unlocked one, slapping it over his wrist. We were connected. If he burned, I burned too.

Determined to get out of here alive, I pressed my body to his, trying to get to the door as the thick smoke grew dense. I felt the heat of the flames as the walls began to wrinkle and melt.

Fred tugged me toward the door and out onto the second floor, marking a pathway for me to follow through the fire.

I heard the building groan as the greedy flames popped and crackled, consuming the drywall, carpeting, and sporadic pieces of furniture. The flickering light danced as it cast an eerie glow on our bodies.

The floor was burning fast. I felt everything under me shift.

Fred picked me up, running down a staircase that would soon be nothing but embers. We busted out a side door as the dark smoke followed, billowing into the cloudless Nevada sky. The stars twinkled as they witnessed the catastrophic event unfold.

My lungs struggled to fill with air. I coughed and sputtered, staring at the building that appeared to be a living entity, trembling with the waves of heat that shimmered across the surface.

Wait. Where was Flint?

Fred began laughing, his body shaking as he grasped my chin. “He’s in there. The floor fell on top of him. He’ll burn!”

“No!” I shouted, lifting my fists to pummel his chest.

“He’ll burn!” he repeated with glee.

I remembered my switchblade far too late. Fred was distracted, and I didn’t hesitate to reach inside my back pocket, pulling it free with my free wrist. I flicked the blade open, stabbing Fred’s stomach as his eyes widened.

He stared, blinked, and then snarled. His body tackled mine to the ground, and we landed hard. My wrist with the cuff snapped as I screamed while excruciating pain traveled up my arm. A wave of dizziness nearly made me puke.

Fred straddled my waist, laughing as he shook his head. “So fucking pathetic. You were only ever good for one thing. I still dream about your tight pussy and the first time I fucked you.”

He kept talking, but I tuned him out, refusing to relive those horrors. My gaze swept over the burning building and the bodies moving in the night. People were shouting, trying to contain the blaze before it reached the clubhouse.

The two buildings weren’t attached but far too close.

“Flint,” I whispered, devastated as I realized he never could have survived the raging, relentless fire.

Fred slapped my face. “You won’t escape. Not again. I won’t let you.”

He uncuffed his hand before reaching for my clothes, tearing them from my body. I couldn’t fight him. Not with my broken wrist.

My mouth opened, and I managed a single scream before his hands wrapped around my throat and began to squeeze.

Why did no one come? Didn’t they see us?

Flint. Flint. Where are you?

“Flint,” I choked, devastated he was inside that building.

He was dying inside. I was dying outdoors.

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