Chapter 2

Grace ran as hard as she could for as long as she could, and then she walked until her feet hurt so badly she couldn't go another step. She knew they were cut and probably bleeding, but after what she'd been through, she didn't care.

Exhausted, scared, tired, and numb, she stopped walking and looked around. "What the hell am I going to do?"

She was next to a mailbox, but there was no visible house. When she glanced down, she discovered a gravel driveway that led to nothing she could see, which meant whatever was at the end of the driveway was completely dark.

In the past hour, she'd discovered she was not near a city. This area was oddly rural. Large luxury homes interspersed with cabins and run-down dwellings. Some were trailers. Some were cabins. Some were occupied, others were not.

Out of ideas, Grace crept down the gravel driveway, wincing with every step because her feet were killing her. The drive was slightly overgrown with weeds and overhanging branches. Because there was a mailbox, she had to assume she would eventually come to a structure.

Sure enough, a cabin suddenly loomed in front of her. There were no cars in front, no lights on, and no evidence of life.

Grace crept up the steps to the front door and leaned her ear against it. No sounds. She tried the handle. It was locked, of course. Breathing heavily, she stepped off the small porch and rounded to the back of the cabin. The place was very small. Maybe one room. There was a back door, though, and a path led away from it into the trees. She couldn't tell where it might go.

"It would help if tonight had been a full moon," she grumbled to herself. "Or at least a half." Instead, all she had was a crescent. Barely enough light to see anything out on the main road. Now that she was far from the road, the thick trees were blocking most of the light from the stars.

The back door was also locked. Not surprising.

There were two small windows flanking the back door, but they were several feet off the ground. When she rounded back to the front, she realized one window was probably over a kitchen sink. The other was her only option. It was large enough and low enough for her to climb through if she could open it. Or, worst-case scenario, she would break it. She was out of options.

Creeping closer to the larger window, she wasn't watching where she stepped and stubbed her toe on something large and smooth.

"Shit," she muttered as she bent down to rub her toe. A planter. There were only three things on the porch: a rocking chair, a small table, and a planter. And she'd managed to run into one of them.

Frustrated, she gave it a shove. It scooted over several inches, and then she froze. Something shiny caught her eye. The smallest sliver of light from the moon shone just right, illuminating…a key.

Grace nearly laughed. Please, God. She snatched it up. Please let this open the front door. If she could avoid breaking a window, she wouldn't have to deal with the elements, the cold, the wind, and the broken glass.

Her hands were swollen and shaking as she worked to fit the key in the keyhole. She couldn't see what she was doing and had to flip it over several times. Eventually, it slid in.

Grace felt like she'd won the lottery when the key turned all the way to the right, and the door opened. She stepped inside quietly, trying to adjust to the more intense darkness. She didn't want to try the lights. She had no idea how far the next house or cabin might be from this one. The last thing she wanted to do was attract attention to herself.

"Hello?" No one was here. She was sure of it. Silence.

She shut the door, locked it, and gingerly crept across the room. Besides the back door, she could only make out one other door. She prayed it led to a bathroom. The rest of the cabin was all one room.

There was a queen-sized bed, a nightstand, a dresser, a sofa, a small table with two chairs, an old area rug, and that was about it as far as movable furniture. The kitchen area appeared to have a sink, a cooktop, and a small fridge. Cabinets extended above and below the counter on both sides of the sink.

It was small, but it seemed clean. She wasn't going to be able to assess it better until morning.

Wincing with every step, she made her way toward what she prayed was a bathroom and blew out a breath when she discovered she was right. Not a huge bathroom. Toilet, sink, and a small square shower.

"Please tell me the owner keeps the water connected." She turned the knob for the sink. It sputtered and gurgled for a moment, but then water flowed out.

Grace was almost happier than she'd been when she'd found the key. She waited impatiently, letting the water run for a few minutes, knowing it might be rusty until it would run clear.

Finally, she leaned over, scrubbed her hands in the flow, and then cupped them to get a drink. Until that moment, she hadn't realized how thirsty she'd been. She drank and drank, not caring that she was getting the sleeves of this stupid suit coat wet. In fact, she eventually shrugged out of the coat, dropped it on the floor just outside the bathroom, and then considered what to do about her feet.

She had no doubt they were cut in several places, and she'd probably tracked blood through the cabin. She needed to wash them.

Without a better plan, she climbed onto the small vanity, settled her feet in the sink, and grabbed the bar of soap to scrub them.

"Shit, shit, shit," she muttered. The soap stung, but she gritted her teeth and scrubbed anyway. Blood, debris, and dirt needed to be washed off, or her feet would get infected.

When she was confident she'd done the best she could in the dark, she turned off the water and reached for the mirror next to her head. Sure enough, it opened to reveal a small medicine cabinet. Unfortunately, it was way too dark to see anything inside it. She considered the lights again and decided against that plan. First aid would have to wait until morning.

Grace used the small hand towel to dry her hands and feet, hoping she wasn't ruining it, and then gingerly hopped down to the floor. "Ouch."

She took the towel with her, padded toward the bed, and pulled back the covers. There was nothing else she could do in the dark, and she'd never been more tired in her life.

The sheets were flannel, with a quilt and a down comforter on top. Grace sat on the edge of the bed, swung her feet around, and wrapped them in the hand towel. If they were bleeding, she didn't want to ruin the mattress. Maybe that was the least of her problems after breaking and entering, but if she was able to stay in this cabin for more than one night, she wouldn't want to get blood all over her sheets. It wasn't as though there was a washing machine.

Grace pulled the covers over her and curled up on her side. She tucked her arms into her chest, pulled her knees up, and shivered. It wasn't from the cold. It was from fear.

She was so exhausted, though, and so damn comfortable for the first time in a year and a half that she drifted to sleep in no time.

Grace bolted awake to the sound of birds chirping. She sat upright so fast that she felt woozy. It took her several seconds of looking around to remember where she was and how she'd gotten here.

The room was bright. The sun was high in the sky. She'd slept hard. A quick glance around the cabin didn't reveal much more than she'd already known. It was sparsely furnished and slightly dusty but otherwise tidy.

Her stomach growled, and she prayed there was something to eat inside those cabinets. Anything. Hopefully, the owner at least kept canned goods.

However, her bladder was the most pressing issue, and she gingerly turned her body until her feet dangled off the edge of the bed. She lifted first one and then the other so she could assess the damage.

They didn't look as bad as she'd expected. Cuts and scrapes but nothing that wouldn't heal. They were swollen and sore enough that it hurt to put pressure on them as she stood.

Since it was light out now, as soon as she reached the bathroom, she risked trying the light switch and grinned when the overhead light came on. When was the last time she'd smiled? Only once in almost two years, and that had been last night when she'd found the key.

After using the toilet, she opened the medicine cabinet and found gauze and antibiotic ointment. A glance under the sink pleased her, too. Plenty of toilet paper, cleaning supplies, soap, and an unopened toothbrush.

Grace started with her teeth and then put ointment on her feet and wrapped them. Her next stop was the dresser. A quick look in every drawer told her this place was owned by a man. She pulled an oversized T-shirt over her head and moved toward the kitchen. "Please…" she muttered. "Anything."

The first cabinet held a few plates, cups, glasses, and mugs. The drawer beneath it held silverware and cooking utensils. The next cabinet had a toaster, a coffee pot, a skillet, and a few pots.

Grace set her hand on the last cabinet, closed her eyes, and begged the Gods for food. And then she breathed a sigh of relief right before laughing out loud.

There was a variety of canned goods. Blessed angels. There was also pasta and rice. But what made her laugh was the canister of oatmeal. If she never saw oatmeal again in her life, it would be too soon. She felt like she'd existed for the past year and a half on mostly oatmeal. Gruel, she'd come to think of it every time Master J had set a bowl of it in front of her.

Good news followed in the form of sugar, cinnamon, and even brown sugar. She could work with that. They'd give the oatmeal flavor.

Thirty minutes later, she was no longer starving. She had something in her stomach. Now, she needed to survey the rest of her situation.

An hour after that, Grace was confident of several things. The owner hadn't been here in a while, but he kept the place in good shape for whenever he chose to return. She had to hope that wouldn't be soon.

In addition, this was a fishing cabin. All the fishing supplies a man could need were in a storage bin that doubled as a bench on the small back porch. There also weren't any neighbors in any direction for as far as Grace could see through the thick trees.

And most importantly, there was a lake not far from the back of the cabin. It had a small dock, and a motorboat was tethered to it.

Grace was only twenty-four and didn't have many skills, but she could definitely fish. Her grandfather had taken her fishing hundreds of times growing up. If there were fish to be had in that lake, she would not starve.

The only footwear she'd found was a pair of rain boots inside the storage container with the fishing gear. They would be huge on her, but they would protect her feet anytime she needed to go outside.

Now what? How long could she stay here? She had no idea what to do next. This seemed like her best plan for now. Hide in this cabin.

According to the woman she'd spoken to last night, the man who'd purchased her had the surname of Chekov. If he was dead, someone would surely find the body soon, and then they'd be looking for his killer. Who would believe that she'd been kidnapped, trained as a sex slave, sold to that asshole, and then killed him in self-defense?

She wasn't sure if anyone would believe her or not. At this point, it sounded like a horror movie inside her head. Plus, the man who'd kidnapped her and turned her over to Master J in the first place had been a police officer. Contacting the police was out of the question.

What if Chekov was not dead? He'd search the globe to find her and either bring her back or kill her or both. After snooping around the entire perimeter of the cabin in every direction, Grace determined she was as safe as possible here. She would hide out indefinitely and come up with a plan.