Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Vienna

It was getting cold.

With all the other things I had to worry about, that was at the forefront of my mind as I paced the small space of the shed, the chain clinking and swishing as I moved, the cuff a cold ache around my ankle.

I knew that staying still would stop it from biting into my skin, from rubbing it raw.

But I couldn't seem to force myself to just sit in the corner and wait for him to come back.

Besides, I told myself, letting my muscles atrophy was not going to help me when, one day, I could find a way to get out of the shackle, then make a run for it.

Maybe that was wishful thinking after so many months locked up, but the hope was probably the only thing keeping me from just refusing to eat and drink the meager rations that were brought to me, and let myself dehydrate to death.

I think, when I'd first been tossed in here, some part of me expected to wish for death. And, sure, I had those moments. But I'd been shocked at how strong the human will to survive could be.

Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but one of these days, he would screw up. Leave something behind I could use to pick the lock. Be caught unaware and give me an opening to bash him over the head, take the key, and set myself free, then make a run for it.

If I could survive captivity and everything else I'd endured all these months, I damn sure could survive a few days or weeks in the woods.

Not if it got too cold, though.

I might not even survive in this shed if it kept getting colder.

I wish I knew where I was. That would tell me just how dismal my chances of survival were as fall gave way to winter.

The leaves on the trees suggested we weren't far from colder temperatures.

But how cold?

Was I still in Arkansas?

Or had this monster driven me over a border?

Because if that was the case, it could be as cold as twenty below in no time.

My gaze moved around the shed that had been my jail cell for about four months, give or take a few days when I was not thinking to tick marks into the wall with my fingernails.

While it was a space that had been outfitted to use as a makeshift jail cell, what with the chain driven into the ground and the composting toilet in the corner, it wasn't meant to be lived in year-round.

The walls had no insulation. And the floor just had one partially rotted layer of plywood protecting me from the cold ground. There was no fireplace or wood-burning stove.

What was the plan then?

To let me succumb to the elements?

To take me into the house?

I think I'd rather die than have that happen.

For reasons I didn't really understand, I was protected from the other men out here. I think it was the chain on the door with only one key. The men did come around, leering in the windows, sometimes making faces and noises that let me know they were doing more than just watching me through the grime-caked glass. But they never came in.

If I were in the house, I had no delusions about my fate. It would be more than the one bastard ‘paying me visits' and doing what he wanted to me.

I'd been enduring this current fate. Mostly because I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. But I didn't think my soul could take that.

I swallowed back the sick taste in my throat, finding myself glad this wasn't one of the days when I'd been fed because I was pretty sure my dark turn of thoughts would have had me retching it all right back up. And I couldn't afford to lose nutrients like that. As it was, I could already count all of my ribs, could see the sharp juts of my hipbones sticking out if I lay on my back.

There was the sound of male voices somewhere in the distance, but the chain didn't allow me to get close enough to any of the windows to actually look out.

Not that I wanted to.

Somehow, it was better to be unaware of what was going on out there, who may or may not be approaching the shed at any given time.

It wasn't even all that alarming when I heard the distant sound of gunshots. It wasn't uncommon around here. I was pretty sure some of the men hunted. Or, at the very least, did target practice nearby.

It wasn't until I heard howls of pain and shouts of dismay that I felt the simultaneous sinking in my stomach and soaring in my chest.

Had someone shot my captor?

In a sick way, that idea filled me with dread.

Better one abuser than a whole team of them.

But if they'd all been killed?

Oh, who was I kidding?

If they'd all been killed, I would die of dehydration or the elements before I would actually be able to free myself.

I'd been trying for months with no luck.

My nails were down to bloody stumps.

The back of my foot was bruised from trying to slam the shackle against things to break it.

There was the sound of car doors, of engines, and I had no idea what to think of that as I strained against my chain, trying to get closer to the window to see, to have some idea what might be going on, what I might have to prepare myself for.

But after the sounds of the trucks retreated, there was nothing but an eerie silence that had my belly flip-flopping as I slid back toward where the chain was driven into the ground, easing the tugging on my aching ankle, as I ran my hands up and down my bare arms, chafing some warmth into my skin.

I'd been taken on the first truly warm day of spring.

I remember being so excited to be able to wear the sundress I'd bought over the winter. I'd been drooling over it for months, but it had always been just out of my price range. Then it had gone on clearance, and I'd pounced, treating myself to a rare splurge.

I'd been so thrilled at how the white "milkmaid" dress looked both demure and undeniably sexy, how it had hugged my chest and waist, then flowed outward into a flirty skirt.

It wasn't so pretty now, covered in dirt, blood, and dried sweat. The bodice, that had once been tight against my breasts, was loose thanks to how much fat I'd lost since I'd been taken.

The lightweight material had once been the best selling feature. I'd been sure it would keep me cool even in the hottest months. And, to be fair, it had accomplished that. As best any article of clothing could when you had no way to get away from the oppressive heat.

But it was so thin and lacking material that I was already trembling in cold and it wasn't even the coldest part of fall yet, let alone winter.

I was still rubbing my arms when I thought I heard a shuffling sound outside of the shed.

My hands froze on my upper arms, my whole body tensing, unprepared for another ‘visit' so soon. Especially when I'd gotten my hopes up that everyone had left.

But when I heard the noise again, it was coming from the side of the shed, not the front.

An animal, maybe?

It wouldn't be the first time.

There was no shortage of wildlife around. Deer and raccoons, for sure. Even the distant sounds of coyotes and bobcats. Even, on occasion, I'd heard the grumbling sounds that had to belong to bears.

This was the woods, after all.

So there was no reason to assume it was anything else.

Until, of course, the window at the side of the building suddenly wrenched open.

And not a minute later, the upper body of a man started to slide inside. Then the rest of him too, landing clumsily and with a few little curses before he finally stood to his full height.

There was a moment of debilitating fear, thinking it was one of my abductor's men finally breaking orders and coming to abuse me.

But the second the man straightened and his gaze landed on me, I knew that wasn't the case.

Because as his dark eyes moved over me to land on the chain on my ankle, all I saw was horror on his handsome face.

It seemed wrong that I was able to actually notice his looks, given the situation. But there was no denying the man was gorgeous.

Tall and fit with tattoos sneaking up one arm, black hair that looked just shy of needing a trim, a classically handsome face with a strong jaw covered in a few days' worth of stubble, gooey dark eyes, and a somewhat stern brow, the man looked like he'd stepped off of a billboard somewhere.

"The fuck?" he hissed, his voice a shocked whisper.

The sound, so unexpected, had me jerking back, my chain rattling, as a little gasp escaped me.

"Hey, it's okay," he said, his hands lifting, palms out. "I'm not going to hurt you," he added, taking a step forward.

Not toward me, but to look out of the window, but I shifted away from him regardless.

"Christ. I'm gonna get you out of here," he declared, looking back over at me.

And, suddenly, I had the most acute surge of embarrassment that I'd felt since my dignity had been stripped from me all those months ago.

I was suddenly acutely aware of the filth covering me, of the fact that I likely smelled, that my hair was in limp, greasy strands down my face, that I was so skinny I was barely more than skin stretched over bones. That my lips were so painfully chapped that they were cracked.

"Do you understand me?" he asked, concern etched on his handsome face. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

To that, I nodded.

"Thank fuck. Okay. I'm… Riff," he said, pressing his hand to his chest like he was reenacting that scene in Tarzan between him and Jane.

"Vi…" I started, having to stop because my voice sounded so raspy.

"Vi?" he repeated.

"Vienna," I said after clearing my throat.

"Vienna. Okay. I need to come over there and look at that chain on your ankle. Is that okay?"

Permission?

He was asking for permission to come close to me?

A strange, high-pitched laugh escaped me at that, making his brows pinch.

"Yes… okay," I said, nodding, trying to get myself together.

Because this was it.

The moment I'd been dreaming of and praying for over the past several months.

My chance at freedom.

Riff moved toward me, slowly, like he was approaching an injured animal. And, I guess, that's exactly what I was.

He came closer and I found myself holding my breath as he lowered down onto the floor, reaching for the shackle and turning it so the lock faced him.

"I think I can get this off," he said, reaching for something at his waist, and I watched as he pulled some sort of retractable keychain away from his belt loop.

On it was a set of keys, but also what looked like a pen flashlight, a multi-purpose tool, and something else. A small circular thing with something sticking off the edge of it. A tool of some sort?

No.

No .

That was a handcuff key.

"Might want to say a silent little prayer with me here, Vienna," he said, holding the shackle, and bringing the key toward it. "This thing is supposed to be universal. But I dunno if it works for a fucking shackle."

I did exactly what he said, praying to God that it would turn and click and release.

Then, just a few seconds later, the prayer was answered.

"Thank fuck," he said, his shoulders relaxing as he pulled the shackle open. "Oh, shit," he said, seeing my ankle.

"It's okay. I can walk," I insisted.

"In bare feet?" he asked, moving back from me to stand, shaking his head.

"No… no. I had shoes when he… when I came here," I said. "I think they're over in the corner," I said, pointing toward where he'd come in.

He turned and made his way in that direction, glancing behind a big drum of… who the hell knew what, and coming back with two dusty nude-toned ballet flats.

"Better than nothing," he said, carefully putting them down in front of me, allowing me to step into them.

"What's going on?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Nothing good," he said. "Two of the men inside are injured. One isn't. The rest will probably be back pretty soon. We have to move and we have to move fast."

"Okay," I said, nodding a bit frantically. "I can do that. Believe me," I added, watching as horrified understanding crossed his face.

"Okay. I am going to go out of that window first, then I will reach up and pull you through. I would push you through first, but I don't want to risk you falling and snapping something."

"Okay," I agreed, knowing he was right, that if I fell in this weakened condition, the risk of something breaking was a lot higher.

With that, I followed him silently to the window, watching as he hauled himself back through it.

There was a panicked second of me thinking he would decide he'd be faster without me before his arms went up into the window, waiting for my hands to grab.

With one deep breath that burned my lungs, I did the only thing I could at this point.

Put my faith to rest in this stranger.

My hands slid into his, and they tightened on my elbows, pulling as my shoulders screamed, the window ledge pressing painfully against my protruding bones as I slid across it until, finally, his hands grabbed me around the sides, and pulled me down to place me carefully on the ground.

"Okay, Vienna," he said, giving me a long look. "Now we need to run."

With that, his hand grabbed mine, fingers lacing, and he turned and ran. Leaving me no choice but to follow.

I didn't dare look back, some superstitious part of me was afraid that if I did, I might provoke the men to come chasing after us.

Instead, I kept my gaze on Riff as we tore into the woods, as our feet crunched on twigs and underbrush, as random branches slapped at our bodies.

Riff didn't slow, at times all but dragging me with him, wanting to put as much distance between us and the house and the men inside as possible.

My chest was on fire though, my weak legs screaming in pain, wobbling worse with each passing step.

Still, his hand stayed firm in mine, pulling me along.

Toward what fate?

I had no idea.

But I was pretty damn sure nothing could be worse than what he'd just saved me from.