Chapter Thirty-Three

Quinn

Am I still at our house?

This is the first question that enters my mind after I force my heavy eyelids open.

It's no use. Even with them open, I can't see a thing. This room is so dark. There aren't even any windows.

I try to move my hands, but they're tied behind me with duct tape. My ankles are tied, too, so I can only wriggle like a worm. The concrete floor feels cool and rough beneath me, and it hurts each time my swollen jaw and my bruised arm rubs against it.

Wait. Concrete floor. Slightly cool air. No windows.

Is this our cellar? There's only one way to be sure. I feel my way around and find a stool in the corner. I search for the dent of the chisel on one of its legs, the one I made when I tried to practice the wood carving skills I thought I had, the one that made Charlie so angry.

It's there. This is the stool. This is the Hardy cellar.

I'm still on the Hardy farm.

The bad news is that there are no lights in this cellar. The good news is that I know the door has no lock. It had one once, but Charlie removed it because he was afraid I'd get locked inside. Or lock someone inside.

For once, I'm glad I was such a mischievous kid.

Now, if only I could free myself and get up those stairs.

Help me, Charlie.

I try to remember what's inside this cellar. Harvest isn't over yet, so it's almost empty. There's only that stool, which doesn't have edges sharp enough to cut through the duct tape. And a crate in the opposite corner, which as far as I can remember has no nails sticking out. I don't recall seeing any nails sticking out of the shelves, either.

Something sharp. Something sharp. I repeat those words in my mind as I wriggle around and think.

My head hits a shelf and I yelp as I roll back on my stomach. As I do, I feel something poking my belly.

What is that? Something in my front pocket?

Then I remember. It must be the shard from Meredith's broken teapot.

Something sharp.

Using every ounce of flexibility I can muster, I try to get the shard out of my pocket. It takes a while because my movements are limited and my pockets are deep, but finally, I hear a clink. It's out.

I try to search for it with my hands behind me. One of my fingers brushes against the shard and I feel a cut, but I ignore the pain as I grip the porcelain fragment.

I start trying to cut the duct tape. The edge of the porcelain fragment cuts my palm anew and I wince. Still, I continue. I cut myself again. And again. The shard grazes my wrist and I let out a cry.

"Shit!"

I can feel the blood on my fingers.

Dear God, I hope I don't bleed out.

I keep going, closing my eyes to ward off the pain and biting down on my lower lip. Finally, I hear something rip. I pull my wrists apart and the tape breaks.

Thank God.

I wrap a piece of duct tape around my wrist to stop the bleeding. Then I work on the tape around my ankles. It comes off faster.

I'm free.

I scramble up the steps and push the door out of the way. As soon as I'm outside, I take a gulp of air. It takes my eyes a few moments to adjust to the moonlight, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I realize I'm alone.

But that means they must be at Eli's house. Where Eli is. Where Marianne and my son are.

Those thoughts send adrenaline pumping through my veins. I rush inside the house to get the flashlight. Then I start running to the Strauss farm as fast as I can.

~

By the time I get there, I'm out of breath. I can see lights inside the house. I hear something break. A gunshot rings through the air and my heart pounds.

I should have known Eli wouldn't go down without a fight, but he's all by himself and I don't know how many men Drake has with him. I can see one of them serving as a lookout near the front door. He has his gun drawn.

I have to find another way in.

As I make my way towards the back of the house, I see a broken window. I go in through that and end up in the living room. I crouch on the floor and look around.

Empty.

I hear another gunshot from upstairs. It seems like that's where the fight is. That must be where Eli and the children are.

I'm scared. I've never been so scared in my whole life. I'm even more scared now than I was when I was begging Drake to spare my mother and my brother. But I have to get to Eli and the children.

I have to help them.

I climb up the stairs and nearly stumble over a body at the top.

A dead body. With a gunshot wound to the head.

Eli's shot?

I don't know, but the man has a gun and I take it. I don't like guns and I've never held one before, but I do remember Charlie teaching Chase how to shoot. He said he ought to know in case a rabid animal or a dangerous person wandered onto our farm. The nearest police station is miles away, after all.

I sure wish they were around.

But they're not, so it's up to me. I cock the gun and head towards Marianne's and Clive's bedroom. They're not there.

I hear more gunshots from upstairs. And curses.

I head to the stairs. I stop at the bottom as I hear someone coming down. I hide behind a set of drawers and take a peek.

He's one of the men who were with Drake before. His shoulder seems to be bleeding and he's dialing a number on his phone. Calling for back-up? I can't let him do that.

I aim for his other shoulder and pull the trigger. I hit his arm instead. He lets out a cry and falls. The phone lands on the steps.

"Bart?" I hear Drake call from upstairs.

I hear him start to come down the stairs.

Shit.

I run to Marianne's room and hide behind her bookshelf. I hear footsteps running down the hall and my heart pounds. I cock the gun again and grip it tight.

The door opens.

"Whoever you are, I know you're in here." It's Drake. "Come out and play."

I hold my breath and push myself as far back as I can against the wall.

The floorboards creak as he comes closer. My heart leaps to my throat and my stomach tightens.

Drake sees me at the same time I see him. We point our guns at each other's heads.

He grins. "Oh, it's you, Ms. Hardy."

"Yes." I hold the gun with both hands, which I try to keep from shaking. "We meet again."

He grunts in displeasure. "I was hoping you'd behave and stay in that cellar."

"Do I look like someone who behaves to you?"

Drake chuckles. "Chase was right. You are something. I think I might even like you, but that's too bad because you're going to die."

My throat goes dry. My finger twitches against the trigger.

Just then I hear a crash from upstairs. I jump. The bullet from my gun flies towards the ceiling.

Oh, shit.

The next thing I know Drake is in front of me. He slaps the gun away from my hand and it slides under the bed. His arm wraps around me and I feel the cool barrel of his gun against my temple.

"One wrong move and I'll blow your brains out," he warns.

I don't even nod. I don't move. I can only tremble. My teeth chatter and my lips quiver.

Is this the end?

I thought I was willing to trade my life for my family's. I thought I was ready to die. But now that it seems all too possible, I'm afraid.

With his gun to my head, Drake leads me out of the room and up the stairs. I dare not try to escape. On the third floor, he stops. I see more bodies on the floor.

"Elijah Strauss!" Drake shouts. "Come out right now and put your gun down or Ms. Hardy dies!"

No! If Eli does that, then...

My heart stops as I see Eli come out of his bedroom, gun in hand. His eyes widen as they meet mine.

"Quinn." The sound of my name on his lips makes me want to cry.

"That's right." Drake presses the barrel of the gun against my head. It hurts. "I have your girlfriend. You may be quite the shooter, but I doubt if you can shoot me before I blow her brains out."

Eli comes closer. "Let her go."

"Put your gun down or I'll shoot."

Eli stops. He aims at Drake's head.

"Sure you can shoot me first?" Drake taunts.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I'm so scared I can't stand to watch anymore.

Then I hear a click. I open my eyes to see Eli slowly raising his hands in the air in surrender. Tears threaten to escape.

No.

I just know Drake is going to kill him once he's unarmed. He's shot so many of Drake's men, after all.

Please no.

"Put your gun down and kick it over to me," Drake orders.

"Eli, no!" I cry.

Drake's fingers tighten around my arm. I yelp.

"Don't hurt her," Eli warns.

"Put the fucking gun down!" Drake shouts.

As Eli puts the gun on the floor, his eyes meet mine. Then he mouths three words that cause my tears to fall.

God, no. Please no.

Eli kicks the gun. I hear it slide across the floor. As soon as it stops at my feet, Drake's gun leaves my head. He points at Eli and gets a shot off.

"No!" I scream as I grab at Drake's gun.

He shakes me off and I fall to the floor. He grins as he points the gun at me.

"Quinn!" Eli shouts.

My mouth gapes. I want to scream but I can't. I can't even think or breathe. I just close my eyes and brace myself for the fatal bullet.

Instead, in the next moment, I hear a thud. I open my eyes and find Drake on the floor. But it's not Eli who's on top of him. It's...

"Chase?"

They wrestle and fight with their fists. Eli grabs his gun. He shoots and the two men go still.

I clasp a hand over my mouth as my heart gets stuck in my throat.

Who did he shoot? Who?

Then Drake falls. I see the blood oozing from his side.

Relief washes over me. Fresh tears sting my eyes and my knees touch the floor as my legs give way. My arms fall to my sides.

In the distance, a siren wails.

Finally, the nightmare is over.