The Runaways

Chapter 10

Cillian stood in the doorway with a sizable amount of wire cable hanging over his shoulders. Caleb unlatched his hands from my throat, and I gasped in a lungful of air, struggling to get my wind back between tears.

“Did you see what you wanted?” Caleb asked, gazing up at Cillian like a well-trained dog.

Cillian tossed him the bundle of cable and a roll of duct tape. Caleb sat me up, wound them around me, and slapped covered my mouth to keep me quiet.

        “I saw what I needed to. You had me worried earlier. You seemed a little too serious about that tramp in front of Rusty. We can’t have that ya’ know.”

Caleb’s eyes flickered back to normal just in time for me to catch what looked like embarrassment scampering across his face.

        “I didn’t know what else to do. The girlfriend act was the most believable thing I could think of," he said.

Caleb’s eyes quickly found their way to the floor.

        “I hope for your sake, Caleb, that that’s all it was.”

        “Come on, Cillian.”

       “Do you know why I asked you to rough her up earlier, Cal?' Cause she needs to understand that you’re the boss in this house—not her boyfriend. That mouth of hers nearly landed the lot of us in prison, and all you did was stand there while she yapped Rusty into an early grave!”

Caleb snatched Cillian by the collar and dug his fingers hard into his t-shirt.

        “Liam killed Rusty, Cillian. Not her.”

He brushed Caleb's hands away.

         “Suit yourself, kiddo. Just try not to make anymore mistakes at our family’s expense.”

         “I’ll swear on whatever you want me to.”

         “Swear on your life, then. If you break your word, I’ll kill you for it. Deal?”

Cillian latched on to Caleb’s hand tight enough to drain away the blood. He couldn’t have been older than Caleb by more than a few years, but he took extreme pleasure in what little power that gave him.

Caleb ignored his brother’s threats, picked me up off of the ground, and wound the rest of the wires around me tight enough to sting.

        “Forget it. We’ve got other things to worry about. What should I do with her for the time being?“ he asked, piquing Cillian's interest.

        “Whatever you like, just tell me when you want me to leave the room!”

Cillian let out a raspy cackle cold enough to freeze the blood. He was an imp of a man, less physically terrifying than Liam, but equally sinister. Between laughs he’d occasionally glance down at me, his eyes gleaming pallid blue in the day light.

Caleb fell silent, choking on his reservations and the remnants of what Cillian had said. Earlier, I might've pitied him, but he wasn't someone to pity—none of them were.

        “You’re a Judas after your own heart, Caleb. Don’t worry yourself to pieces. As long as she’s kept in her place, you’re alright by me. Toss her in the cold store for the time being. We need Marcus back before we can do anything else,” Cillian said.

Caleb pulled me off of the ground by the cables and urged me towards a locked metal room in the back of the house. The wires around me tightened, and fresh adrenaline spilled into my bloodstream. They’d kill me here.

They’d take life as quickly as they had Rusty’s and leave me in the company of animal’s ghosts. I let all my weight hang dead in his grip, like resistance would change things. He'd have to drag me to the end of everything with my heels firm against the floor.

I’d make him carry me, cursing and spitting, into the cold store where I’d be no different than the livestock who came here to die.

Death pervaded this house—it lurked in the old, dried bloodstains on the floor and danced around the rusted, abandoned killing machines along the walls. These boys could frighten me, break me, beat me, and bruise me until I was hopeless, but I wouldn’t die helpless.

        "She won't move, Cillian,” Caleb said.

I dropped to my knees, and Caleb struggled to get me to step an inch further from where I’d fallen. Cillian lost himself in another fit of laughter. Caleb's face flushed.

        "You've gotta learn how to handle a woman Caleb or you'll disappoint down the line."

Cillian moved him aside, picked me clear up off the floor, and slung me over his shoulder. I kicked as hard as I could manage, thrashing my knees around like a madwoman, hoping to hold him back as long as possible.

        “Here’s a lesson, Cal. For jumpy girls like this one, lift her up so her diaphragm rests on top of the rounded part of your shoulder and—"

A hard jab from Cillian spilled the air right out of my lungs. I stared out at Caleb while he watched me choke, sputter, and blue in the face. He stood there, stuck somewhere between concern and forced indifference.

As my vision blurred, I locked my bloodshot, bulging eyes with his and watched his conscience betray him. Guilt lingered just below the surface of the chipping veneer he'd put on to appease Cillian, and I cracked a smile beneath the duct tape.

I’d found my loophole.