Haley

Leaning against the wall next to the window, I subtly put my finger to my lips, hoping to signal Carmen to stay quiet without being too obvious. I had no idea if the guards monitored us regularly through the video cameras, but I didn’t want to risk it.

The sound of gravel crunching under tires alerted me that a vehicle was coming up the driveway, or what I assumed was a driveway. About a minute later, I heard what I’d come to recognize as a manual garage door opening then closing once another minute had passed. Since the sounds seemed to echo from quite a distance away, I was almost positive it was a detached garage.

Ever since my hellish photo shoot yesterday, I was determined to come up with a concrete escape plan. I couldn’t take the chance that something worse would happen to me or the other women if we waited for a rescue that may never happen. It wasn’t that I’d lost faith in the guys—I knew they would never give up—but I had to get out, especially now that I suspected DuBois was behind everything.

Wishing I could put it all to pen and paper, I made a mental list of my observations since the beginning of my captivity. Apart from the man who’d seemed vaguely familiar and Javier, the photographer, I’d still only encountered the same three guards. However, I’d never seen more than two of them at a time. Considering that two vehicles arrived around 8:00 AM every day and one left shortly after, that had to be their morning shift change. The same thing happened at 8:00 PM, except one vehicle arrived and two departed.

It was reasonable to infer that two guards were on duty during the day and one each night. All of our meals and bathroom breaks occurred between 8:00 AM and 8:00 PM, which meant the lone guard never had to deal with his prisoners. It was a crappy system for the guards, since it meant they often had to work twenty-four hours straight. Of course, they probably slept while on duty, so I wasn’t exactly feeling sorry for them. Not to mention the whole holding me captive issue.

I checked my watch. 8:05 PM. If we were going to get out of here, it would be much easier to accomplish with only one guard on the premises, which meant I’d have to make my move between now and the shift change in the morning. Since I’d seen both Scarface and my “favorite” guard today, the weak link should be on duty tonight. Perfect.

But how would I get him to open the door to our room? I could fake illness or insanity, but there was no guarantee he would respond to either of those. Only one thing made sense—I’d have to attack Carmen and make it look real. Even if the guard wasn’t watching us on camera, surely he would come running when he heard her screams. The walls weren’t that thick.

It was a risk, of course, because I couldn’t control what he would do once he entered the room. My goal was to catch him unawares and take him down. Without another guard to come to his aid, I felt certain I could take advantage of his inexperience and succeed this time. I had to.

Once he was restrained, I would steal his keys, release the other women, and we would escape in his vehicle. So much could go wrong, but I refused to dwell on that.

I heard two vehicles leaving shortly after each other, further cementing my resolve. After debating what time to make my move, I decided on midnight. Maybe the guard would be slightly more disoriented or surprised if he thought we’d been asleep for a while. Now, I needed to convince Carmen to go along with the plan.

“Let me braid your hair?” I asked at a regular volume before whispering, “I have a plan.” I wasn’t certain whether the camera picked up sound, but I trusted it at least wouldn’t detect my low murmurs.

I sat behind her on her mattress, making sure we were both turned with our backs to the camera. Working as slowly as possible, I began the French braid and whispered my plan to her in Spanish. When I explained that I was going to attack her, and she would need to scream and fight back, she jerked but didn’t say anything. I knew it would be difficult for her, but she had to play her part, as I’d have to play mine.

Not wanting to appear suspicious, I tied off the braid then started the simple exercise routine I’d followed for the last few days. Since our meals were small, I couldn’t afford to burn many calories. But I’d also wanted to stay as strong as possible, so I’d settled on performing a series of stretches, crunches, lunges, and push-ups twice a day.

After being trapped in a tiny room for over four full days, the thought of running along the beach with Knox sounded like heaven. Well, if I was honest, I didn’t even care about the running. I just wanted to see Knox . . . and Liam, Jackson, Theo, and Chase.

I missed them so much, my chest ached whenever my thoughts strayed to them. I’d had way too much time to obsess over the way I’d left things on Taco Tuesday, and remembering made me sick to my stomach. I’d thrown their love in their faces by pushing them away. And for what? Who the hell cared what Vanessa or anyone else thought? If hindsight was twenty-twenty, I was officially seeing more clearly than ever.

The minutes ticked by endlessly as I waited to make my move. I had to constantly stop myself from looking at my watch. Instead, I fingered the pens in my cargo pockets, reassuring myself that they were still there in case I needed them.

When it finally reached midnight, I was more than ready to get this show on the road. I could hear Carmen’s deep breathing and decided it was a good thing. Her reactions would be more genuine if the guard happened to be watching. And the more authentic the spectacle, the better our chance of success.

Standing, I began pacing and talking to myself. My words were mostly unintelligible, but they didn’t matter. I merely needed to come across as troublesome. That shouldn’t be too difficult.

Carmen stirred and I felt her eyes on me, but I didn’t look her direction as I continued my pacing. After a few more moments passed, I stopped and glared at her. “What’s your problem? Stop staring at me!”

She responded in rapid Spanish, but I interrupted her, yelling, “English! God, I can’t even understand you.” As she rose to her feet, I got in her face, spitting out, “Shut up! Just shut up!”

Her face flashed with uncertainty, so I gave her a barely perceptible nod before pushing her. She needed to fight back. When she tugged rather gently on my hair, I held back a frustrated groan, then slapped her cheek without any warning. I felt bad, but we had to make this believable, and I couldn’t do it alone.

The slap lit a fire under her, because her stunned expression turned into one of determination, and she elbowed me in the gut. I cried out in pain, even as I mentally cheered her on. That’s more like it.

The sound of a fist hitting the outside of the door was followed by, “Hey! Cut it out in there!”

Getting the guard to respond wasn’t enough. He needed to open the door. In a move I’d perfected during training, I pinned Carmen’s arms behind her back and pushed her down to the mattress. Even though I wasn’t really hurting her, she started screaming bloody murder, just as I’d hoped.

I heard the deadbolt click and quickly whispered that she should pretend to be passed out. As the door opened, I backed away from her, trying to appear guilty and scared.

The guard didn’t have a weapon drawn and left the door wide open as he took in Carmen’s still body. His face blanched. “What did you do?”

“I’m s-sorry,” I stuttered. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

As he bent to check her pulse, I charged him, pushing his side into the wall and holding him there.

“Carmen, run,” I yelled, determined to get her out of the room no matter what. Though the guard was inexperienced, he was still bigger and heavier than me, and I knew my hold wouldn’t last long.

She immediately sprang from the mattress and ran out of the room as the guard struggled against me. I managed to pin one of his arms, but just as I reached for the gun strapped to his waist, he knocked me off balance. With both arms free, he pushed off the wall, shoving me to the ground in the process.

I fell on my shoulder with a sickening crack, and pain radiated down my shoulder and arm. Bright, white hot, blinding pain. I knew with certainty that something was broken.

I bit down on my lip, tasting blood. It was me or him, and I wasn’t going down without a fight. I sucked in a breath and kicked his feet out from under him, grabbing the gun from his holster as he fumbled on the floor. Spots appeared in my line of vision, but I couldn’t stop, not yet.

On shaky legs, I stood and backed away, the gun trained on him the entire time. I gestured for him to stand.

“Keys and phone,” I demanded. He reached into the front pocket of his cargo pants and withdrew his keys, tossing them in my direction. After pulling a cell phone out of a different pocket, he leaned down like he was going to slide it over the carpet. At the last second, he dropped it to the ground and repeatedly stomped on it instead, crushing it. Damn it. Guess he was smarter than he looked.

Not wanting to put the gun down, I glanced at the keys to confirm there was a car key attached. When I noticed the black fob, I breathed a sigh of relief and kicked them out the door. Refusing to waste another second, I backed fully out of the room and frantically pushed the door shut, loving the satisfying click of the deadbolt sliding into place.

Carmen retrieved the keys and locked the handle. I instructed her to release the women in the other rooms before finally allowing myself to double over in pain. I knew I needed to get my arm in a sling, but I didn’t have time to fashion one right now. Deep breaths, Haley.

When I regained control of the pain and stood, I was confronted with the faces of four terrified women. The sight hit me hard. I was in charge of getting them out of here safely. I’d never felt that kind of responsibility before, and it spurred me on.

Tempted to search the house for another phone or our shoes, I ultimately decided it would be best to get the hell out of there as fast as humanly possible. Motioning for the women to follow me, I led them to the front door and told them to wait. I snuck outside and located the garage behind the house in the glow of an almost-full moon. There were no exterior lights or signs of life.

As we started toward the garage, I heard the unmistakable sound of tires on gravel in the distance. I turned and saw the flash of headlights. Shit, shit, shit. If we all got in the car now, this new vehicle would immediately chase us down, and no one would escape.

Thinking fast, I turned to Carmen, who still clutched the keys. “Go without me,” I commanded, not taking the time to translate to Spanish. She must have understood, because her eyes widened and she shook her head.

“Go!” I hissed. “Call Knox. Tell him where I am. Now, go!” I pushed her in the direction of the garage with my good arm and ran toward the approaching vehicle, ducking behind a tree to stay out of sight.

I heard the garage door open, followed by the slamming of car doors. Every second counted, and I mentally urged the women to hurry as I watched a dark SUV barrel toward the house. It came to a screeching halt about fifteen feet away from me. Blood rushed in my ears, and I fought the panic threatening to consume me. I could do this.

After a few deep breaths, I braced my right arm against the tree, aimed, and fired at the front passenger tire, praying the bullets would puncture it. It was too dark to tell if the tire was deflating, but I went ahead and shot at the back tire as well for good measure.

As though it was happening in slow motion, I watched a man step out of the opposite side of the SUV and duck while the car driven by Carmen sped past us and down the driveway. The man cursed loudly before standing to his full height and aiming an automatic rifle at my head.

“Drop the gun,” he growled.

Not seeing any other options, I placed it on the grass and held my right hand up in surrender while my left hung limply at my side. My heart was pounding with such a mixture of fear and exhilaration, I didn’t know which emotion would win out.

As he rounded the car and inspected the tires, which were hissing as they deflated, I realized the man was Scarface. He let out a string of curses in Spanish before turning back to me. “¡Maldita perra! Back in the house, now.”

I started walking that direction, only now aware of cuts on my feet from running barefoot across the gravel driveway. The guard followed closely behind, pressing the gun into my back.

“Did they all get away?”

“Yes,” I replied, feeling smug. At this point, I wasn’t sure it mattered what I said. If he was going to kill me, he would have already. At least, I hoped that was the case.

“Good thing Joey called me before he opened the door. Idiota.”

So that’s why Scarface had returned. I hadn’t completely ruled out something like that happening when I planned the getaway, but there had been no way of knowing one way or the other.

He made me walk past the closed door of my former room and into the next before slamming the door without another word. Thinking that was the end of it for a while, I slumped against the wall, but the door re-opened a minute later.

Joey—I finally knew his name—stood next to Scarface, holding a thin strip of rope. “Put your hands in front of you. Now.”

Holding back the grimace caused by moving my arm, I silently complied.

“Does that hurt?” Joey taunted, cinching the rope around my wrist. “Because I can make it tighter.”

“There will be time for that later,” Scarface said in a detached voice. “After the other women are secured.”

Once they were gone, I gingerly sat on one of the mattresses and hung my head. The elation I’d felt when Carmen and the others escaped had faded. I’d been so close to getting away, but it wasn’t enough. I should have come up with a better plan, even though I had no idea what I could have done differently.

What if Carmen couldn’t remember Knox’s number? Even if she did, there was no guarantee that she’d be able to accurately relay my location. I wanted to hope for a miraculous rescue, but the only feeling I could muster beyond pain was despair.

I shifted on the mattress, trying to find a relatively comfortable position. Lying down was impossible, so I eventually settled on leaning my back against the wall while I rested my bound hands on my lap, my left arm braced against my side. The pain was exponentially worse now that I’d lost my adrenaline high, and I just wanted it all to go away.

For the first time since being kidnapped, I let tears run freely down my face. There was no point in stopping them, no reason to be strong. Carmen wasn’t here, and I wouldn’t be given another opportunity to escape.

I finally allowed myself to think about the guys without holding back. Theo came to mind first. If he was here right now, he would do everything within his power to make me laugh. He’d probably make a comment about the appalling lack of décor or how a makeover could really brighten up the place.

Then my thoughts drifted to his brother. Oh, Knox. He would probably knock Joey out with a single punch to the face for even thinking about hurting me. But then he would be by my side, supporting me and wiping away my tears.

Chase would hold me in his arms, singing softly. He’d choose something soothing, like “Angel” by Sarah McLachlan, which would make me cry even more. But it would be sweet and comforting, like him.

Liam would turn on the charm, maybe tell me how I looked gorgeous even with my messy, unwashed braid and puffy eyes. He’d likely suggest plans that would require a bikini or his favorite striped one-piece.

Jackson would take charge of the situation. After checking my injuries and bringing me pain medication, he would look at me with those soulful blue eyes and know what I needed without having to ask.

My tears evolved into sobs, even as a stark realization sank into my bones. Each one of them gave me something different—laughter, protection, solace, devotion, connection. All things I needed, wanted. If they were willing to accept what I alone could offer them in return, who was I to argue?

I was officially done caring what anyone thought of my relationships. If I got out of this alive and whole, I would embrace them and never let go.

I’d spent my entire life searching the cosmos for guidance and meaning. Now, I knew I only had to look to the five men who made up my world. They were my perfect constellation. They were my sun and moon. Together, they were my North Star . . . my Polaris.