The sunlight that streamed through the glass doors of her room felt oppressive, too bright, too warm against her chilled skin. Evangeline sat on the edge of her bed, her back hunched as she stared at her hands. They were trembling again. No matter how tightly she curled her fingers into her palms, the shaking wouldn't stop.
She felt ill, but it wasn't just the physical exhaustion. It was deeper, an ache that radiated from her chest and settled in her stomach, twisting every thought and every breath into something heavy and unbearable. Her reflection in the nearby mirror caught her eye, and she barely recognized herself-pale, dark circles under her eyes, her cheekbones sharper than they should have been. She looked like someone hollowed out and barely stitched back together.
Evangeline hadn't slept properly since the night Cleet had burst into her room. The dreams had become worse, each one more vivid, more terrifying than the last. Noah's face haunted her-his eyes empty, his voice cutting through her like a blade. The guilt she carried over his death, the anger at what she'd learned about him, all twisted into nightmares that refused to let her rest.
Her body felt weak, her limbs heavy as if they didn't belong to her anymore. She could barely stomach the scraps of food they allowed her to eat, and the water she forced herself to drink seemed to do little to quench her thirst. A dull ache throbbed behind her temples, a constant reminder of how far she'd fallen from the strong, determined woman she used to be.
The sounds of the house around her only heightened her unease. Footsteps creaked on the floorboards, muffled voices echoed down the hall, and laughter-sharp and cruel-punctuated the air like gunshots. She hated how she flinched at every sound, how she couldn't shake the feeling of eyes watching her even when she was alone.
The days blurred together, each one marked only by the moments they allowed her out of her room. The rest of the time, she was confined to the small space that once felt like a sanctuary but now felt like a prison. She couldn't stop thinking about Javier's words, about the fragile glimmer of hope he'd offered and how quickly it had been snuffed out by reality.
Her gaze drifted to the glass doors leading to the balcony. She'd tried once to test them, to see if there was a chance of escape, but the sharp crack of a voice from below had frozen her in place. One of the men-Cleet or Joe, she wasn't sure-had been standing in the yard, a gun in his hand, his eyes trained on her as if daring her to try something. She hadn't attempted it again.
Evangeline pressed a hand to her stomach, the queasiness rising again. She felt feverish, her body betraying her with weakness when she needed strength the most. The days of tension, fear, and confinement were catching up with her, wearing her down until she barely had the energy to think.
Her thoughts drifted to Arthur, unbidden but persistent. She clung to the memory of his voice during their last phone call, the way he had sounded so concerned, so sure of her. A part of her hated herself for pushing him away, for letting fear dictate her choices, but what else could she have done? If he came here, if he tried to help her and something happened to him... she couldn't bear that thought.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, her jaw tightening. She couldn't afford to break down. Not now. Not yet. Even as her body rebelled against her, even as her mind screamed at her to give up, there was still a tiny spark of defiance burning in her chest. It wasn't much, but it was all she had left.
She swallowed hard, her fingers clutching the edge of the bed as she forced herself to stand. The dizziness hit her immediately, but she steadied herself, taking a slow, deep breath. She couldn't let them see her like this. If they did, if Micah saw any weakness, he'd use it against her. And she couldn't let him win. Not yet.
The sound of boots echoed outside her room, the rhythm slow and deliberate. Evangeline tensed, her hands clutching the edge of the mattress as she stared at the door. It swung open with its usual abruptness, and there stood Micah, his smug grin already in place. In his hand was her phone, the glow of the screen catching her eye immediately.
"Well, sweetheart," Micah drawled, stepping inside and leaning casually against the doorframe, "seems you've got yourself some real persistent friends." He held up the phone, his grin widening as he scrolled through the messages. "They've been blowin' up your phone, wantin' to come see you. Real sweet of 'em, huh?"
Evangeline's heart sank as she imagined Tilly, Karen, and Mary-Beth's worried texts flooding her phone. She could almost hear their voices, full of concern and confusion over her lack of response. The knot in her stomach tightened as Micah's laughter cut through her thoughts.
"They're probably sittin' around, wonderin' why little Miss Perfect isn't answerin'," he sneered, tossing the phone onto the bed beside her. "Not like you can tell 'em the truth, though, can ya?"
Evangeline's fingers twitched toward the phone instinctively, but she didn't dare pick it up. Instead, she glared at him, her jaw tightening as her chest heaved with barely contained anger.
"Oh, and then there's this," Micah said, his tone turning mocking as he scrolled further. "Your cowboy pal-what's his name again? Don't matter-he's been real busy too." He smirked, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Text after text, apologizin' like some lovesick puppy. Somethin' about a 'Mary,' though I can't figure out who the hell that is."
Evangeline's breath hitched, the mention of Mary slicing through her like a knife. She clenched her fists in her lap, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to steady herself.
Micah stepped closer, crouching down so they were face to face, his grin widening as he watched her struggle to stay composed. "Y'know," he said, his voice low and taunting, "it's almost cute. Like he thinks he's got a chance of fixin' this. As if showin' up here would do anythin' but get his dumb ass killed."
Her throat tightened, and she fought the tears that threatened to spill. She wouldn't give Micah the satisfaction of seeing her break down again. Instead, she lifted her chin, her green eyes blazing with defiance even as fear coiled in her chest.
Micah's smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, standing and straightening his jacket. "Well, ain't this your lucky day," he sneered, his tone dripping with mockery. "Dutch is here to see you again. Guess he still thinks you're worth his time."
Evangeline's heart sank, her chest tightening as a cold wave of dread swept over her. She gritted her teeth, refusing to let Micah see how much his words rattled her. "What does he want now?" she asked, her voice steadier than she expected.
Micah let out a low, humorless chuckle as he stepped back toward the door. "That's for him to say, sweetheart," he said, opening it and gesturing for her to follow. "But if I were you, I'd play nice this time. Dutch ain't exactly known for his patience."
Evangeline hesitated, her mind racing as she pushed herself off the bed. Her legs felt shaky, but she forced herself to stand tall, keeping her expression blank even as her heart thundered in her chest. She followed Micah out of the room, her every step measured and cautious as she tried to steel herself for whatever awaited her.
The hallway felt impossibly long, the heavy thud of Micah's boots echoing with each step. When they reached the living room, she saw Dutch sitting at the table, an unreadable expression on his face. He looked up as they entered, his piercing gaze landing on her and holding her in place.
"Miss Thornton," Dutch said smoothly, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made her stomach twist. "I hope Micah's been treatin' you well. You know how he gets when he's bored."
Micah snorted but didn't respond, instead shoving her forward lightly. "Here she is, Dutch. All yours."
Evangeline's breath hitched as Dutch's sharp eyes bore into her, the weight of his presence suffocating. He gestured to the chair across from him with a slight tilt of his head. "Take a seat," he said, his tone deceptively polite.
She hesitated for a moment before obeying, her hands trembling as she pulled the chair out and sat down. Dutch leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he studied her closely, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
"We've got some unfinished business to discuss," he said finally, his tone low and measured. "And I'd suggest you start tellin' the truth this time, Miss Thornton. For your sake."
Dutch's faint smile widened as he leaned back in his chair, cradling the glass of whiskey in his hand. He took a slow sip, his piercing gaze never leaving Evangeline. The room felt colder, the weight of his attention suffocating.
"I know you're lying," Dutch said casually, his tone almost conversational, as though they were discussing the weather. "Your little story about talking to victims? Cute, but not convincing. See, we've been in this game long enough to know when someone's holding back." He set the glass down with a deliberate clink. "And you, Miss Thornton, are holding back a whole lot."
Evangeline's chest tightened, her fingers gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. "I've told you everything I know," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I don't have anything else."
Dutch chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Now, see, that's where we have a problem. Because I don't believe you." He leaned forward again, his tone dropping to something colder. "And I don't like being lied to."
Evangeline's pulse raced, her mind scrambling for a way out. "I'm not lying," she insisted, her voice trembling. "I swear-"
Dutch's hand slammed onto the table, the sharp sound making her flinch. His piercing eyes bore into hers, his smile vanishing. "Don't insult my intelligence, Miss Thornton," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I know there's more to your little crusade than what you're tellin' me. And I don't take kindly to being kept in the dark."
Evangeline swallowed hard, her throat dry as she fought to hold his gaze. "I'm not... I swear, I'm not hiding anything," she said, her voice faltering under the weight of his intensity.
Dutch leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable as he drummed his fingers against the armrest. "You're scared," he said, his tone softening slightly, almost as if he pitied her. "And I get it. Fear makes people stupid. It makes them sloppy. But if you keep playing this game with me, you'll find out real quick that I don't have the patience for it."
The room seemed to grow smaller with every word he spoke, the tension pressing down on her like a physical weight. She wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything but sit there under his scrutiny, but she forced herself to stay still, her hands trembling in her lap.
Dutch's eyes narrowed, and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "But I'm not a cruel man, Miss Thornton," he said, his voice smooth again, almost soothing. "I'm willing to give you a chance. You tell me the truth-who's helping you, who's feeding you this nonsense-and we'll call it even. You walk out of here with your life, and maybe even a little dignity."
Evangeline's stomach churned as his words sank in. He wanted names, connections, anything that would tighten his grip on the world she was trying so desperately to expose. And if she didn't give him what he wanted...
Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke. "I don't have anyone," she said, her eyes pleading. "I don't have any sources. Everything I know came from public records, from interviews-"
"Enough!" Dutch's voice cracked through the air like a whip, silencing her. His calm demeanor vanished in an instant, replaced by a simmering rage that made her blood run cold. "Do not lie to me again."
Micah snickered from his spot by the door, his smirk widening as he watched the exchange. "Looks like she's runnin' outta stories, Dutch," he drawled, his tone mocking. "Maybe we need to teach her how to be honest."
Dutch's gaze flicked to Micah, then back to Evangeline. His expression softened again, but the edge in his eyes remained. "I'm giving you one last chance, Miss Thornton," he said, his voice measured and deliberate. "You tell me what I want to know, or I'll let Micah have his fun. And trust me, you won't like what that looks like."
Evangeline's heart thundered in her chest as she stared at him, her mind racing. She could feel Micah's eyes on her, the weight of his malice suffocating, but it was Dutch's calm, calculated tone that terrified her the most.
Evangeline's fingers dug into her thighs as she struggled to steady her breathing. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to do something that would break the suffocating tension in the room, but she couldn't. The weight of Dutch's threat pressed down on her, a cold reminder of how precarious her situation had become.
"I'm telling the truth," she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. "There's no one else. I-I went through everything myself, read old police reports, spoke to people you've hurt. I swear, there's no one helping me."
Dutch tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes studying her every move. His lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers drumming once against the table before he leaned back, his expression unreadable.
"You're stubborn," he said, almost as if he admired it. "I'll give you that. But stubbornness only gets you so far, Miss Thornton." He reached for his whiskey glass, taking a slow sip before setting it down deliberately. "So, if you're not going to be honest with me, let's try something different."
Evangeline's stomach churned as Dutch glanced toward Micah. A twisted grin spread across Micah's face, his hands resting on his belt as he pushed away from the door and stepped closer.
"Oh, I like different," Micah said, his voice dripping with glee. "Been waitin' for this."
Evangeline's heart raced as her gaze darted between the two men. "Please," she said, her voice cracking. "I don't have anything else to tell you. I swear-"
"You've sworn a lot, Miss Thornton," Dutch interrupted, his voice calm but razor-sharp. "And yet, here we are." He gestured toward Micah with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Let's see if a little persuasion can jog your memory."
Micah moved closer, his boots echoing ominously on the wooden floor. Evangeline recoiled instinctively, her back pressing into the chair as her breath quickened. The malicious glint in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine, every muscle in her body screaming for her to run, to fight, to do anything but sit there and wait for what was coming.
Evangeline's chest heaved as her breath came in short, shallow gasps, her fingers digging into the edge of the chair as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. Her heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear anything over the rush of blood in her ears. Micah's steps were slow, deliberate, his boots thudding against the floor like a countdown to something she couldn't escape.
Her vision blurred with unshed tears as her mind raced, grasping for anything-any name, any answer, any way to make this stop. Her father. Her mother. Arthur. Tilly. Each name came and went, a fleeting thought, a desperate gamble that she quickly dismissed. None of them could bear the weight of what she was about to say, and she couldn't bring herself to lie, not with Micah's eyes gleaming with the promise of violence and Dutch's icy stare boring into her.
Micah was close now, crouching down so his face was level with hers. She flinched as his hand moved, half expecting him to grab her or worse. Instead, he grinned, his teeth bared like a predator savoring its prey.
"Last chance," he said, his voice low and menacing. "You gonna talk, or are we gonna have some real fun?"
Evangeline's body trembled, her breath hitching as a tear slipped down her cheek. She felt like she was suffocating, her chest tight with panic as every second stretched into an eternity. Her nails dug into her palms, the sharp sting grounding her just enough to force the words past her lips.
"My brother!" she choked out, her voice breaking as she gasped for air. "Noah. It was Noah."
The words hung in the air, raw and painful, and she collapsed into herself, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as the weight of her admission crashed over her. Micah froze, his grin fading into something unreadable as he straightened, glancing back at Dutch.
Dutch's eyes narrowed, his faint smile disappearing entirely as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. The room grew colder, the air heavy with their disappointment. "Noah," he repeated, his tone flat and unimpressed, as though her brother's name was nothing more than an inconvenience. "Well, isn't that convenient? The dead man who can't defend himself."
Micah let out a harsh bark of laughter, shaking his head as he stepped back from her. "That's it? That's what you've got?" he sneered, his lip curling. "Your dead brother? Hell, Dutch, she's feedin' us scraps."
Evangeline's chest heaved, her heart pounding as she struggled to steady her breathing. "I'm telling the truth," she rasped, her voice trembling but resolute. "It was Noah. He was the one looking into you, the one who started all of this."
Dutch studied her, his piercing gaze unrelenting. He steepled his fingers, resting his chin on them as his expression darkened. "If that's true, Miss Thornton," he said quietly, his voice laced with menace, "then you're running on borrowed time. Because your brother's already paid the price for his mistakes. The only question is... how far are you willing to go to clean up the mess he left behind?"
Micah chuckled darkly, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Ain't much of a mess if she's outta the picture," he said, his tone light but carrying an unmistakable threat. "We don't owe her a damn thing, Dutch."
Dutch raised a hand, silencing Micah with a single gesture. His focus remained on Evangeline, his cold eyes boring into her as though he were peeling back every layer of her defenses. "Let's make something clear," he said slowly, his voice calm but deadly. "If you're lyin' to me-or holdin' out on me-it won't just be you who suffers. Think about that before you open your mouth again."
Evangeline's blood ran cold, her hands trembling as the weight of his words pressed down on her. She could feel Micah's smirk, the quiet amusement of a predator waiting for its prey to falter. The silence stretched, oppressive and suffocating, as she fought to find her voice.
The sound of a vehicle rumbling up the driveway shattered the tense silence, making everyone in the room freeze. Evangeline's breath caught in her throat as her heart leapt into her chest. Every muscle in her body tensed, and for a fleeting moment, hope flickered amidst her fear.
Dutch's sharp gaze snapped toward the window, his demeanor shifting from composed to furious in an instant. "Did you idiots move the cars to the back like I told you?" he barked, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade.
Joe hesitated, exchanging a nervous glance with Cleet. "The only car out front is Javier's," he mumbled, his tone defensive but uncertain.
Dutch slammed his fist down on the table, making Evangeline flinch. "Goddamn it, Javier!" he snarled. "What the hell is the point of tellin' you boys anything if you can't follow a simple order?"
The vehicle came to a halt outside, the sound of its engine cutting off leaving a suffocating silence in its wake. Dutch's eyes flicked to Micah. "Get her out of here," he snapped. "Upstairs. Now."
Micah grabbed Evangeline's arm roughly, yanking her to her feet. "Come on, princess," he hissed, dragging her toward the stairs. Evangeline stumbled, her legs weak beneath her, but she didn't resist, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what was happening.
"Move!" Micah barked, his grip like a vice as he pushed her up the steps.
As they ascended, she dared a glance back over her shoulder. Dutch was still at the table, his expression stormy as he gestured for Cleet and Joe to follow him to the door. Her pulse thundered in her ears, the faint hope she'd felt now tangled with a fresh wave of dread.
Once upstairs, Micah shoved her into her room, slamming the door shut behind them. He gestured for her to sit, his smirk cruel and condescending. "Looks like we might have some company," he sneered, leaning against the wall. "But don't you worry, sweetheart. You're not goin' anywhere."
Evangeline's hands trembled as she sank onto the bed, her eyes darting to the glass doors leading to the balcony. She thought of the vehicle outside, the faint possibility that someone-anyone-might have come for her. But the weight of Micah's presence kept her paralyzed, the glimmer of hope dimming under his menacing gaze.
Evangeline strained her ears, every muscle in her body tense as she tried to make out what was happening downstairs. The distant hum of voices reached her, muffled and indistinct, but no door opened, no footsteps sounded in the house. The vehicle outside remained silent, its presence both tantalizing and tormenting as the seconds dragged into minutes.
Micah stood near the door, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, watching her every move. His smirk deepened as he noticed her subtle attempts to listen, to make sense of what was happening outside. "Don't bother," he said lazily, crossing his arms. "Whoever it is, they're gonna take one look at this place and turn right around. Ain't nobody stupid enough to mess with us."
Evangeline's heart clenched, her gaze flicking back to the glass doors. She tried to hold onto the sliver of hope that someone might still intervene, but the faint rumble of an engine starting outside shattered that fragile hope. The vehicle began to pull away, the sound growing fainter until it disappeared altogether.
Her stomach dropped, the oppressive weight of her reality settling over her once again. She gripped the edge of the bed, her nails digging into the fabric as she fought the tears threatening to spill. Her chest heaved with suppressed sobs, but she refused to give Micah the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
"See?" Micah drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "What'd I tell ya? Nothin' but a false alarm. Now quit lookin' so damn hopeful-it's pathetic."
Evangeline glared at him, her green eyes blazing despite the tears brimming at the edges. She wanted to scream at him, to lash out, but the sharp reminder of the gun tucked at his side kept her still. She turned her face away, her jaw tightening as she forced herself to breathe, to think, to survive.
Micah watched her for a moment longer, his smirk growing as he seemed to feed on her frustration and despair. "That's better," he said, his voice taunting. "Ain't no use fightin' what you can't change, sweetheart."
Evangeline didn't respond, keeping her face turned toward the glass doors. The darkness beyond the balcony felt endless, mirroring the pit in her chest. She listened to Micah's footsteps retreating as he moved to lean against the wall again, his presence still looming but no longer pressing down on her.
Minutes felt like hours as she sat frozen on the edge of the bed. The hope she'd clung to for a brief, shining moment was gone, leaving her in the oppressive silence of the house once more. Her mind raced, weighing her options, searching for any thread of a plan, but every scenario ended the same-with her trapped, outnumbered, and outmaneuvered.
Eventually, Micah spoke again, his tone flat and almost bored. "Get some rest, darlin'. Gonna be a long few days for ya."
She clenched her jaw, forcing herself not to react as he opened the door and stepped out. The lock clicked behind him, and she was alone again. The darkness of the room closed in around her, her thoughts spinning as exhaustion finally began to take its toll.
Evangeline's stomach twisted with a mix of hunger and dread as she sat on the floor, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. The faint glow of dawn outside the glass doors cast long shadows across the room, the pale light doing little to ease the weight pressing on her chest. Her mind kept circling back to the vehicle from the night before, the fleeting hope that had quickly faded when the sound of its engine had disappeared into the night. Whoever they were, they had left her behind.
Her breath caught as the heavy thud of boots echoed down the hallway. She stiffened, her nails biting into her palms as the footsteps stopped just outside her door. The knob turned, and the door swung open to reveal Bill, his face as hard and sour as ever.
"Up," he barked, motioning sharply with his hand. "Dutch ain't here, but you still need to eat. Let's go."
Evangeline hesitated for a moment, her legs feeling like lead as she pushed herself to her feet. The thought of sitting across from them, pretending to eat while their eyes bore into her, made her stomach churn. But she knew better than to resist. Without a word, she followed Bill out of the room, her bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor.
The hallway felt colder than usual, the faint draft brushing against her skin. Bill didn't look back as he led her down the stairs, his broad frame blocking most of her view. Her heart pounded harder with each step, the air growing heavier the closer they got to the main floor.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Evangeline's gaze flicked toward the living room-and her breath caught. The front door was slightly open, the gap no more than a few inches, but enough for her to see the faint outline of the yard beyond.
Her pulse quickened, her thoughts racing as she tried to make sense of it. None of them would have left the door open, not with her inside. It had to mean something. It had to.
"Quit dawdlin'," Bill growled, snapping her out of her thoughts. His hand shot out to grip her arm, dragging her forward. "Food's waitin'. Don't make me regret bringin' your ass down here."
Evangeline stumbled slightly as he led her into the kitchen, her mind still fixated on the door. She forced herself to breathe, to keep her expression neutral as she glanced around. Cleet and Joe were seated at the table, their guns resting nearby, while Javier leaned against the counter, his arms crossed and his expression distant.
A plate of food sat waiting on the table, the sight of it making her stomach turn despite her hunger. Bill shoved her toward the chair, his hand heavy on her shoulder as he pushed her into the seat.
"Eat," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Ain't no point in keepin' you alive if you starve yourself."
Evangeline picked up the fork with trembling fingers, her eyes darting to the front door again. The open door wasn't an oversight. It was an opportunity. She just didn't know if it was meant for her-or a trap.
Evangeline stared down at the plate of food in front of her, her hand trembling as she clutched the fork. The smell of the warm meal wafted up, but her stomach churned violently, rejecting the idea of eating. Her mind was spinning too fast, her thoughts fixated on the barely open front door.
Was it intentional? A mistake? A cruel trick to see if she'd make a move? Every scenario played out in her mind, each more dangerous than the last. Her grip on the fork tightened, her knuckles white as she tried to steady herself. They wouldn't leave the door open by accident. Not these men. Not now. So why?
She stabbed at the food, her movements robotic as she forced a bite into her mouth. The taste was bland and meaningless, her focus too consumed by the door to register anything else. She chewed mechanically, her gaze flicking up to the others in the room.
Bill had taken a seat nearby, his arms crossed as he leaned back in the chair, watching her like a hawk. Cleet and Joe were preoccupied with a quiet conversation, their voices low but not low enough to mask the faint clink of their guns against the table. Javier remained by the counter, his gaze pointedly avoiding hers.
If I run now, I won't make it ten feet, she thought, the fork shaking in her hand as she forced herself to swallow. Her throat felt tight, her body coiled with tension. But if I wait too long, the door might not be open anymore.
Her eyes darted to the door again, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure someone would hear it. If it's a trap, they'll kill me before I even make it outside. But if it's not...
Her thoughts fractured, splitting between hope and fear. She glanced at her hands, noticing how pale her knuckles were from gripping the fork so tightly. Think. Breathe. Wait. You can't panic now.
Another bite, another glance at the door. She needed a plan. She needed time. But time wasn't on her side-not here, not with them watching her every move.
Evangeline's pulse roared in her ears as she sprang to her feet, the chair screeching across the floor behind her. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. Her instincts took over, propelling her forward. She lunged for the door, throwing it open wide, the burst of sunlight blinding after days of dim, suffocating shadows.
The fresh air hit her like a shock, sharp and bracing, but she didn't stop. Her bare feet hit the wooden porch with a hollow thud, her chest heaving as she propelled herself forward. Run. Just run.
She made it to the edge of the porch before a bellowing voice erupted behind her. "Get back here, you little bitch!" Bill's shout was a thunderclap, spurring her legs to move faster, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.
Her foot hit the first step when a massive weight barreled into her from behind, knocking her off balance. She stumbled forward, her hands scraping against the wooden railing as she tried to catch herself. But before she could gain traction, a hand grabbed the back of her shirt, jerking her backward with brutal force.
Bill's laughter was cruel and guttural as he dragged her off the steps, his grip like a vice. "You really thought you could get away?" he sneered, spinning her around and slamming her against the porch railing. The impact sent pain radiating through her back, and she gasped, her vision swimming.
"Let go!" she screamed, her hands clawing at his, but his strength was overwhelming. She kicked out, her bare foot connecting with his shin, and he let out a sharp curse.
"You little-" His hand whipped out, striking her hard across the face. The world tilted, the sting of the blow sending tears spilling from her eyes as her knees buckled.
She barely had time to register the metallic taste of blood in her mouth before he shoved her back onto the porch. Her head cracked against the wooden boards, stars bursting behind her eyes as her vision blurred.
"You think you're smart, huh?" Bill growled, looming over her like a mountain. His boot pressed against her chest, pinning her down as she struggled to breathe. "You ain't goin' nowhere, girl."
The world around her swayed and spun, her limbs heavy and uncooperative as she fought to stay conscious. She could faintly hear voices-Micah's sneering laugh, Cleet shouting something unintelligible-but it all felt far away, muted by the relentless pounding in her skull.
She tried to push at Bill's boot, her fingers weak and trembling, but it was no use. The edges of her vision darkened, her body sinking into the porch as exhaustion and pain consumed her.
The last thing she saw before the darkness swallowed her was the clear blue sky above, mocking her with its unreachable freedom.