When Jayne regained consciousness, she was lying on her side, her knees curled up to her chest. She groaned and struggled to sit up. The burning sensation in her face was agonizing, and given the pain in her side from where Fisher had kicked her, she probably had some bruised or cracked ribs. But it had been worth it because she’d taken control. Yeah, she’d paid for it, but that didn’t matter. She’d been able to tell Rupe something, and that had to be better than nothing. She prayed the information had been useful. As long as she was still alive, she had a chance of being saved. Or saving herself.

She staggered to her feet, her whole body aching from the chilly basement, the hard floor, and the beating Fisher had given her. God, these cable ties were excruciating. Her hands felt about twice their normal size, and she worried that she could lose them if her circulation got much worse. She had to find a way to get them off her. Maybe then, she’d be able to take Fisher by surprise and have a chance of escape. She searched her mind for any small piece of information that would help, but she came up empty.

Then, out of nowhere, she remembered a military documentary she’d watched with Kyle years before. She’d been bored senseless, although he’d been transfixed. Part of the documentary included a piece on escaping capture if you were taken as a prisoner of war and, specifically, how to break out of cable ties. Her body started to jangle with excitement. Yes, she remembered now. She just hoped she had enough strength left in her arms to do it.

Standing in the centre of the room, Jayne bent her body at a ninety-degree angle. She lifted her hands as high as she could behind her back—silently thanking all those hours spent doing yoga—and slammed them into her backside, hard. Nothing happened except an agonizing pain in her wrists so intense that tears sprang from her eyes. She bit her lip to stop herself crying out, in case Fisher was anywhere close by and heard her.

She had to try again. Steeling herself against the pain she knew was coming, she lifted her arms again. Slam! Nothing. A squeal of pain escaped her lips, and she hesitated, her ears straining for any sign of Fisher. When there was none, she raised her arms for the third time. They smashed into her bottom, and her hands sprang apart. The zip tie skipped across the concrete floor and came to rest by the pee bucket.

She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself yelling with joy. She’d done it! As the blood began to flow unrestricted, an agonizing feeling shot through her hands. She whimpered then clenched her jaw tightly. It had been worth it. Her hands were free, and now she had a chance of taking Fisher by surprise. But there was nothing in the cellar that she could use as a weapon, not since he’d removed the nails. She stared over to where the zip tie lay as an idea took hold.

If it worked, she had a chance of getting out of there.

If it didn’t, she feared what Fisher would do.

As full feeling returned to her hands, the pain receded a little. Her fingers were badly swollen and a pretty nasty shade of purple, and she had deep imprints in her wrists where the cable ties had embedded themselves in her flesh. But her plan was in place. All she now needed was to wait for the opportunity to arise, and when it did, she’d be ready.

Now that she had a strategy to escape, Jayne was impatient to implement it. But as time passed with no sign of Fisher, her frustration escalated.

“Hey,” she screamed, after hours had passed with no sign of him. “Hey, I need help here.”

She paused, her ear tilted upwards for any sign that Fisher was coming. Or any sound at all. Nothing. She rubbed her painful wrists and paced the floor, partly to alleviate her angst and partly to help with her aching back. She drank the water and ate the sandwich Fisher had brought her before she’d spoken to Rupe. More hours passed. Tired, scared, and agitated, she slumped against the wall and dropped to the floor. Hugging her knees into her chest, she comforted herself by humming one of her favourite songs. Her eyelids drooped, and despite the ever-present fear, she drifted into a restless sleep.

She was awoken some time later by a faint scratching noise. Craning her neck, she listened carefully. Yes, there it was again. It sounded like someone shuffling. Stiff and sore, she clambered to her feet and shook out her arms and legs. The shuffling changed into the grinding sound of the trap-door bolt being opened. Springing into action, Jayne grabbed the bucket. Her eyes watered from the strong smell emanating from the plastic container. This was going to work. It had to.

She stood behind where he’d drop the ladder and waited. As the bottom rung hit the floor, Fisher began to climb down. When he was about halfway, he glanced over his shoulder. Taking her opportunity, Jayne hurled the contents of the bucket right into his face. Her shot was spot on. Fisher howled and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Jayne grabbed the belt loop on his jeans and yanked hard. He lost his balance and fell off the ladder. As he crashed to the ground, Jayne lifted her leg and slammed her foot hard into his crotch. His piercing shriek was high enough to shatter glass, and he curled into a tight ball.

She threw herself up the ladder. She was almost at the top when she felt Fisher catch hold of her ankle. Jayne shook her leg hard and managed to free herself. She clawed at the earth, hauling herself up. As she turned around, Fisher was right behind her.

“No!” she yelled. She kicked out, catching him squarely in the chest. He plummeted back down with a howl. Jayne’s heart crashed against her ribcage, and with trembling hands, she hoisted the ladder out of the hole.

“Oh, God, help me.” She heaved the trap door over. It slammed shut. Jayne slid the lock into place before stumbling out into the night.