Chapter 92

92

When Elin comes to, she's soaked through, bitterly cold.

For a moment she thinks she's in the water, floating, waves breaking around her, but as her ankle judders—a jerky up and down—she realizes that while she is moving, she's not on water, but land.

She blinks once, twice, but can see nothing; she's been blindfolded.

Panic flares as she tries to move her arms, tug it away, but she's on her back, her hands tied behind her.

Fingers dig hard against her ribs.

Caleb. Holding her under her arms, dragging her backward.

All she can hear is the wild thrashing of the sea. With every step, the sound gets louder, more intimidating.

Bile rises up the back of her throat. He's pulling her toward the water.

While there's a chance he might just throw her in, there's an equal chance that he'll make sure she really is unconscious before doing so. In these conditions, if that happens, it's all over.

Fear closes over her throat, makes it hard to swallow.

Questions dart through her mind: How long has she been unconscious? Has he already gotten to Farrah? Done the same to her?

Think, Elin, think.

For a moment, she can't process it, but then her brain stutters into gear.

A decision: if she stands any chance of getting out of this, she has to play for time. Pretend that she's still unconscious, wait until he stops, and then make her move.

A spray of water hits her face. They're only a few feet from the sea; she has to act now.

In one smooth motion, she propels herself forward; a clumsy jerk of head and torso.

But it works: unbalanced, Caleb rocks from side to side, the hands clamped under her arms briefly slackening.

Falling forward with a thud, Elin scrambles awkwardly to her knees, inches herself onward.

Her ribs are heaving, sore from his grip. A few yards on, she puts her right foot out, tries to stand, but Caleb's already rallied.

His hand grabs her leg, jerks her back, toward him.

Elin attempts to wrench herself forward again, out of reach, but he's quicker. Stronger.

The grip on her ankle tightens; his fingers are just beneath her ankle bone, pushing, pressing.

No time to think: she simply has to move. Elin rolls, cheek pressed stickily to the ground. The movement dislodges not only the grip on her leg, but loosens the tie around her wrists; the pressure from the ligature gives, ever so slightly. Sliding her wrists backward and forward across the ground, she tries to loosen it further.

One, two, three, hard strokes across the ground.

It works: Elin wriggles her fingers free with a sudden euphoria, bringing her hands back around in front of her, but she didn't think about what might come after—the vulnerability of being on her back.

She tries scrabbling backward, crablike, but part of her already knows it's useless. Lurching toward her, Caleb pins her down, his legs on hers.

Elin claws at him, but her hands find nothing but air. She reaches up to try to rip off her blindfold, get a sight of where he is, but before she can even grasp the fabric, he finds her.

A punch to her chest, her face.

Hit after hit that come in time with his grunts. She can smell his breath; it's rancid, stale and sour.

Another blow—one that seems to take over her face, a pain that springs from below her eye, radiating outward.

Elin can't think.

She's all sensation, can feel every bruised part of herself, tastes iron-bitter blood at the back of her throat.

Punches, one after another. Punches that stun and dazzle, tiny shimmers among the black. Her brain seems to dip in and out of consciousness.

Caleb grips her under her arms again, hauling and heaving, as if she's simply a package he has to get rid of, and she wonders if he did this to Seth with the same grim functionality. Hit him and then coldly wedged him into that gap.

Closer again. The sea sounds like it's right behind them.

Her jacket and top have ridden up at the back and she can feel the scratch of the wet ground on her skin. Just grunts from him now, this is workmanlike.

Her reserves of strength are ebbing away; the opposite of the sea, full of power.

Part of her wants to give in, make it easy now.

Elin closes her eyes, bracing herself for the choppy swell of the water.