breath was coming short, and she was having trouble not gasping audibly. But she couldn’t do that. It would bring Axel’s attention to her. She watched as Axel sliced Milo’s palm, the man exhibiting no reaction at all. Even in her extreme fear, the deadened look on the man’s face made Liza’s heart ache. He’d learned how to accept pain. Liza didn’t have to wonder where he had developed that particular skill, or why.
I remember your story, Milo. I remember now.
Axel placed the vial back in his pocket and picked up a second gas can by the door, uncapping it and splashing it on the ancient wood, rivulets running to the floor. Arryn was next and she was closest to the door. Liza would have no chance of using that exit or going anywhere near it before Axel was on her. No chance at all.
And she had to attempt her escape now. Once the fire started, it was over for them all.
Her terror ratcheted higher.
Her only choice was down.
She had no idea if there was even anywhere to go, if she made it down those stairs or if it was a dead end where he’d trap her, handcuffing her again or something worse. But maybe if she could manage to escape, or even hide, he’d be unable to perform whatever sick ceremony he was attempting with one of his players gone.
And she had to try to warn Reed. He was moving closer even now.
Adrenalin pumped through Liza’s veins.
As Axel raised the gasoline can again, busy with his chore, Liza dove out of her chair, heading for the steps. She heard Axel yell behind her and then a loud crash and a grunt of pain—his she thought—but she didn’t waste the seconds it would have taken to look back.
She flew toward the stairs, jumping over them entirely, her feet contacting hard packed dirt as she went into a momentary crouch, springing to her feet and fleeing into the darkness below.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Reed followed the tire tracks with his light. It looked as if they stopped at the gate, and then turned and went back the way they’d come. Someone who’d gotten lost and taken a wrong turn? Possibly. Indecision caused sweat to bead.
God, this could be nothing.
If Axel had brought them all here, how had he gotten them inside? Then again, he’d used his strength to move dead bodies all over town and huck others from buildings. Reed shined his light beyond the gates. It looked as though the house was a good quarter mile back. He moved his light up, searching for a way past the fence, but the bars were made of solid iron, swirled with decorative elements that would make it impossible to squeeze through anywhere, the top featuring large spikes, sharp and covered in rust.
Christ, just what he needed . . . to get skewered out here with no one knowing his location. He could shoot the lock off but . . . no, he couldn’t risk the noise of a gunshot.
He looked through the bars of the fence once more. If Axel had found a way inside, he might have figured out another route from the back, but . . . Reed didn’t have time to search for that either.
He dialed Ransom’s number again and when his voicemail came on, he spoke in low tones, telling him where he was and that if he found nothing, he’d be headed to meet them within the half hour.
Reed left his car where it was, lacing up his boots and heading down toward the river where the fence turned into the woods.
Fuck it was dark, practically pitch-black. Liza had mentioned a moon in her imaginings but there was no such light that night, any glow completely obscured by clouds and the cover of trees. Reed’s breath came quicker, whispers picking up around him. He knew it was just the wind moving through the branches, but he swore there were muffled words in there, whole conversation slipping past him as he moved.
Christ, get a hold of yourself, Davies. He’d never been afraid of the dark. But here . . . there was a feeling. One he couldn’t explain, but some sixth sense reacted to nonetheless.
Over the whispers in the wind, Reed heard the distinct sound of the river lapping the shore, and the movement of night creatures in the foliage around him. Another chill went down his spine as he fought his way through the overgrown brush, trying to walk as