Chapter 25

Sadie

W hen I was twelve, Dad had come home drunk with one of his buddies. I hated it when he was drinking because it always made his violence so much worse. I would run and hide in my bedroom, pulling my knees to my chest and swaying back and forth until my mother’s screaming would stop. She protected me from him by allowing herself to take on his wrath alone.

One night was different, though. This friend and colleague of his had put his hands on my mother. She tried to fight him off, but he was too strong, and my father was in the other room. He was too drunk to even know what was happening before it was too late.

When silence fell in our home, I walked out of that closet and crept downstairs. My father had a gun pointed at his friend, whose pants were down around his ankles, and my mother was crying, her dress torn. She trembled on the couch, angry red marks on her forearms. It happened so fast that I felt like, for the longest time, I had blanked out the memory.

Blood was everywhere: on the walls, the couch, and my mother’s face. I watched from the stairs as she leaped into my father’s arms. For once, he was tender, wrapping his arms around her for comfort and telling her everything would be okay. We had people for that … people who could get rid of the body and clean up the mess so we could continue to hide our family’s sins.

Even monsters had their limits, I guess, especially when others intruded on their territory.

To my mother, he was her savior then. He was the husband who had given out justice to a much more evil man. My dad cut back on his drinking after that.

Last night, behind the bar, something broke inside me. I didn’t want to see Keelan like that. Keelan protected me from that same fate, but all it did was remind me of his capacity for violence. That moment didn’t change my father. Would it change Keelan?

Keelan had never raised a hand to my cheek or bruised me like my father did to me and my mother. He saved me last night. Only he had put me right back into his prison. Instead of letting me breathe and clear my head, I had to pretend it didn’t happen while being shoved back into a car with a man who had taken my freedom away.

“Keelan, I need to get out of this car. Please,” I said, turning to him. My eyes were swollen from crying most of the night.

We slept until eight a.m. by the roadside, and then we continued the trip. We only stopped once to wash the blood off our bodies and discard the clothes in a small creek beside the road before swapping the Camry for a Honda Accord we had stolen. Then we continued on to cross from Utah into Nevada. It was a long stretch from Grand Junction, Colorado, though, after the bar. I was exhausted, and my nerves were frayed to the point of snapping.

“I’d like to reach Vegas by three,” he said, looking at me in his peripheral. “We’ll stop when we’re there.”

“If you’d like me not to turn into a bitch, then I suggest you stop this fucking car,” I snapped. “See.” I pointed to a sign before the next exit. “There’s a rest stop right ahead. Stop the car and let me out.”

Keelan’s brows shot up like my outburst had caught him by surprise. I thought he’d soften a little and cave, but instead, he just replied, “No.”

“Why are you being a dick about this?” I asked, fully turning to look at him. “I’m not suggesting going someplace public where someone can see you and call the cops. Clearly, no one cared about your fugitive status at Luna Butterfly or that bar, so you must not be a hot topic.”

“It’s not up for discussion, princ—”

“Stop calling me princess!” I screamed, my nerves and resolve shredding. “I’m not spoiled or entitled. My life has been fucking miserable! I’ve been beaten, tortured, kidnapped, and sold by people who were supposed to give a shit about me. Not to mention almost …” I couldn’t finish that awful sentence. Tears streamed down my face as frustration built in my chest. “All I wanted was to live in Vermont, work quietly in a bookshop, and watch TV with my cat. But no, you had to come and fuck it all up because of what? You were lonely and needed someone to keep you entertained while you went looking for some lockbox my brother left you? Or because you wanted your little prize back, that was gifted to you by our parents? Sadie Ryan is dead. I want to go home to my fucking cat! I’m done with all this shit.”

Keelan’s eyes darkened to slabs of bluestone, and his lips twisted into a scowl. His hands tightened on the steering wheel to the point his knuckles went white. “Sadie, you are my wife. Mine. And if I want you to be by my side during this road trip, you will do as I ask and be fucking grateful I haven’t killed you already.”

It was as if I had forgotten a murderer was sitting beside me, just waiting for the right moment to punish me. Without thinking, I pulled my elbow back and swung forward, punching Keelan in the jaw and causing him to swerve on the highway. His head whipped back to me, and a look of pure rage replaced his icy demeanor. He quickly pulled the car off the highway onto a small frontage road. I expected to feel terror at what I had done and begin pleading with him. But no, instead, I felt nothing but my anger—cold and brutally numb. The car stopped, and Keelan stepped out and stormed to my side. He wrenched the door open, leaned in to unbuckle me, and grabbed my arm. With a forceful yank, he sent me tumbling onto the asphalt, the sharp pain of scrapes shooting through my elbow and palm and the cold wind biting at my exposed skin.

Keelan reached down, grabbed me by my hair, and dragged me around to the back of the car. I kicked and thrashed, calling him every name I could think of.

“Let go of me!” I screamed, hoping that someone nearby would hear me and help. But there were only woods and roads to swallow my screams. Keelan dropped me on the ground as he popped open the trunk. I attempted to jump to my feet, but his foot slammed down on my shoulder, pinning me.

“You fuck!” I screamed. “What the hell are you doing? ”

He’s getting a weapon.

I closed my eyes, fear taking over the rage, and waited. Waited for the darkness of death.

Instead, I felt his hands seize my body and lift me. I opened my eyes and looked down. The trunk was open and empty.

The fuck! Is he going to shove me in the trunk like a suitcase?

As I thrashed in the iron vice of his arms, Keelan reached up and ran his fingers through my tangled hair, then glanced at the dirt on my arms from the fall. Slowly, he brushed off the debris and then gingerly ran his thumb over one of the scrapes like he was trying to heal it with his touch.

“I’ve tried being patient with you, Sadie. I thought we had reached a fucking understanding the other night. But it would seem you need to cool off a little longer. So, I’m gonna enjoy some goddamn peace while we drive. And you can finally get that alone time you’ve been begging for.”

No. No. No.

He shoved me inside and easily dodged my feet as I kicked at his stomach. Once I was in the trunk, Keelan looked down at my furious, tear-streaked face, grim and angry.

“Try to calm down, princess. It’ll make for an easier trip.”

“Keelan!” I screamed as he closed the lid. I tried kicking it and screaming, but he ignored me, put the car into drive, and headed back onto the highway.

It was dark inside the trunk, and only a tiny crack of light leaked in. As my eyes adjusted, I tried to push on the lid. It refused to budge. Even the backseats wouldn’t push down so I could do what he had done in the last car. I remembered a safety tip about knocking out the taillights and sticking your arm out to wave. I shifted my body to where my feet were angled to kick the back of the lights. Slamming my foot repeatedly, I expected a little give on the taillights, but nothing happened.

“I’m going to kill you, Keelan Blake!” I screamed again, kicking the wall of the trunk. I took a few breaths to slow my racing heart and tried to look around. The air inside the trunk was uncomfortably warm but not suffocating.

As I pulled my knees to my chest, my left leg brushed against something solid. I wriggled my arm down, and my fingers brushed against a metal pipe. Tire jack? Keelan must have forgotten to take it out, as it seemed to have rolled to the very back of the trunk. I wrapped my hand around the pipe and pulled it close to my chest. It was the length of my forearm, something easily concealed. The metal kept me grounded against the claustrophobia that lay in wait in my mind. The hum of the road was soothing despite the cramped space, and I decided to close my eyes and wait. When Keelan finally stopped the car and let me out, I was going to knock him out cold.