The chair is hard, cold metal beneath me. It’s a folding chair, the kind used in churches or auditoriums for extra seating. It’s the kind of chair I’ve seen hundreds of times before, and I’ve never thought twice about alternate uses. Right now? I’m wondering if I can bludgeon not one but two men with it if I stand up fast, grab it and snap it shut, then whip around like a tornado to whack both of my kidnappers in the head.

My hands are tied behind my back. That’s the main problem. But they haven’t fastened my wrists to the chair, so technically I still have some use of them. They haven’t tied my feet together either, and to tell the truth it kind of pisses me off. They think I’m that much of a joke? I’m glad they do, though. With my feet free I can kick. I can stand and I can run. They must think none of those thoughts are crossing my mind. They’re wrong.

The one with the gold tooth is standing in front of me. He seems to be the ringleader.

That might be what gives me the most hope. He strikes me as an idiot. I’ve picked up on the fact that the other two guys don’t seem to respect him too much, either.

I regained consciousness about an hour ago, sitting here in this basement on the chair. But they didn’t realize that I’d come to until about 15 minutes ago. That gave me a nice chunk of time to observe. I saw the other two guys roll their eyes when the main guy gave an order. I overheard the second-in-command whisper to the third-in-command that he wondered how Goldie would fuck up this time around. Apparently, letting me get away the first time hadn’t sat too well with their boss.

It’s probably going to go even worse for them the second time around. Because I am going to get out of this. I have no doubt that Knox is already hunting me down, maybe outside the room at this very moment. But I’m not going to wait around and hope.

I’m done with passive. I’m done hiding, covering myself up and hoping no one notices. I’m done not looking truth in the face and facing reality. My dad’s a bad man. He’s never going to change. I’m done hoping for more. And I’m sure as hell not going to suffer for whatever crimes he’s committed.

Goldie’s leering at me, enjoying standing in front of me while holding a knife. I’m not going to lie, the glint of that blade sends a cold chill down my spine. But I’m not going to let him see that.

He traces a finger down my cheek. His skin feels reptilian, but I suppress my shudder. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Why don’t we have ourselves a little fun?” he asks, the creepiest man alive.

“How’s your arm?” I look up at him and give him a big smile. He’s bleeding through his bandage where I knifed him. I’m proud of myself. For never having used a knife before on another person, I think I did a pretty good job.

“You seem pretty confident for a girl tied up in a basement in the middle of nowhere.” He’s mad now.

“That’s right.”

“Mind telling me why?”

“You know why.” I give him that smile again. I can tell it disconcerts him. It makes me smile even wider.

“Fill me in.”

“You don’t even know what you’re up against, do you? What, do you think Knox was some grunt in the army? You think he failed basic training? Do you remember how quick and easy he took you out when you tried to grab me the last time?”

Goldie’s sweating now. I can see a fine line of perspiration form on his brow. It fuels me on. I can tell I’m doing the right thing, stalling, making him doubt himself.

“We didn’t see him coming.” He sounds like a second grader trying to talk himself out of punishment in the principal’s office. It’s unconvincing.

“No, of course you didn’t. What? Do you think a guy with Knox’s skills would let you see him coming?”

“What kind of skills are you talking about?” The guy behind me asks.

“This sounds like black ops shit, man.” Third-in-command over on my right is getting nervous. Just what I want, sewing dissension in the ranks.

“Oh, it’s some black ops shit,” I confirm.

“I knew that guy seemed like a badass.” Second-in-command swears under his breath. It’s quiet, but I can hear.

“And yet you still thought you could get away with kidnapping me?” I shake my head as if disappointed in their performance. “Some people never learn.”

“Enough talking.” Goldie decides to take charge. He traces my lips with his thumb. This time, I can’t hide my revulsion.

“You’re talking too much,” he leers. “I think you need something else to keep those lips busy.”

He goes on to unzip his pants.

“Hey, now, Rudy didn’t—” The guy behind me starts to hesitate.

“I know what the fuck I’m doing.” Goldie looks down at me as if he has the upper hand. He pulls his pants down, then his briefs. “You ready?” Underneath his bravado, I can sense his fear. It gives me strength.

“Are you?” I ask quietly. He makes the mistake of using his hands to try to feed me his cock. So exposed.

I lunge, quick, taking his thumb in my mouth and I bite. I’m not talking about a play bite, the kind of nip a puppy gives while frolicking. I mean I bite the fuck down, breaking through his skin, tasting his blood and fastening on like a dog with a goddamned bone.

“What the fuck?” His shrill scream explodes into the air. Right alongside the gunfire.

I don’t take time to look and try to figure out what’s happening. I act. Springing up on both feet, I grasp the metal folding chair with both hands give it a jerk to snap it shut. I can’t angle it as high as I’d like to get at Goldie’s face, but what I can’t manage in height I make up for in velocity.

Twisting, turning, I hold on to that chair like it’s my lifeline and I hurl it with all I’m worth into Goldie’s body. My back is turned when it hits, but I feel the impact and hear him scream again. I must have got him good.

Second-in-command who’s been standing behind me is crumpled on the ground groaning in pain, blood coming from his shoulder. Still holding the chair, I turn around. Then I’m in his arms.

“Baby, did they hurt you?”

“Knox.” I can’t believe it’s him. His smell, his arms, his warmth next to me again. For all the bravado I was showing, now that I'm in Knox's arms I feel fear ripple through me.

“It's all right. I've got you. Come on, let's get out of here.”

He cuts my zip tie to free my hands. I'm dimly aware of the fact that there are three, no make that four bodies lying on the ground as we exit the house. I see blood on some of them, not all. I don't want to know everything that happened, not now, maybe not ever. I want to get out.

He scoops me up as we leave the house and hustles down the street with me to his truck. I remember I’m just wearing socks. He’s so practiced and easy doing this, I have to wonder how many times he's done it before and under what circumstances.

He settles me in the passenger seat. He’s around and in the driver's seat before I can blink my eyes.

“Are they after us?” I dart a glance down the dark street.

“None of them are in any shape to come after us.”

“Jesus.” I rub my forehead, shaking, feeling the fear, the terror, the helplessness that I'd kept at bay flood my senses.

“Did they hurt you?” He repeats, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he pulls us out into the pitch black night.

I shake my head. “They drugged me. They tied my hands behind my back. But besides that…” I trail off, remembering what Goldie had been about to try to do to me. I don't know how I'd been able to seem so tough. Now that it's over, I want to curl up in a ball and cry.

“I'm getting you out of here and taking you far away from them. You’ll be safe from now on. You hear me?”

I nod, not able to talk. “It was my dad. You were right.”

“Figured as much.” His jaw is grim and set as he keeps his eyes on the road.

“I can't live like this.” Hysteria bubbles up inside of me. “What am I supposed to do? Live on the run for the rest of my life? Never know when some guys are going to show up and stab a needle in my neck?”

“We're going to settle this. Don't worry.”

“This is crazy. If you hadn't shown up when you did—”

“I don't know, you looked pretty good with that chair.”

That stops my train of panic. “You think?”

“You hit that guy hard. I think you probably could've taken all three of them out.”

“I was really mad.” It comes back to me and I can feel it again, my rage at feeling powerless not only there in the basement with my hands tied behind my back, but for years and years, maybe my whole life.

“Better than mad, you knew how to use it to your advantage. A lot of people lose control when they get angry. But you stayed so focused. You kept them talking. Then you knew exactly what you were going to do when you took action. I've seen pros do worse in the heat of the moment.”

“Thanks.” It's all I can manage just then. He navigates us onto the Interstate and suddenly I’m so tired, crushed by fatigue, as if I haven't slept in months.

“You need to crash.” I hear Knox's voice, but I’m already fading fast.

So many questions to answer. How did Knox find me? Where are we going? Will I ever be safe again, truly safe in that way I could sit at night looking out of the darkness and feel peace instead of suspicion?

But all that will have to wait until my eyes can stay open.