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wall thought the same.

The floorboards creaked above her, and Justine looked up. The sound was just over where she stood. She could hear him pacing, chairs moving, as if he were rearranging. Her heart quickened. It was only a matter of time before he knew she was awake, and she scanned the room for an escape. There was a series of unfinished wooden stairs in the corner of the room. She walked closer, only to see a door leading to the floor he sounded on. It was no use. She needed another way.

Her eyes wandered until they spotted cement stairs leading into a dark crevice. She walked toward it quietly, carefully placing each foot lightly upon the floor, until she was close enough. She gazed up the stairs. There were a set of metal cellar doors, and her heart leapt. She scrambled up the steps. If I could just open them, I could run, she said to herself and then stopped in her tracks. She could still hear him moving about above her. He had not heard her, but she knew pushing the doors open would certainly make a sound. She studied the doors. There was no latch; she would just simply push them open, and her heart pounded from anticipation and fear. It seemed too good to be true. But she needed to wait for the right moment, or he would surely hear her.

He had stopped moving furniture around, and Justine felt panic swell at the thought of her opportunity escaping. Only silence echoed from above. She had no clue where he stood, or what he was doing. Did he hear me? She was about to just go for it, to push the doors open and run, but then she heard his footsteps again and another push of furniture across the floor. Justine didn’t wait; as the movement vibrated the ceiling above her, she pushed at the doors. They opened slightly. She could see light filter between them. She pushed harder, but the doors did not budge further. They were locked, and tears welled in her eyes, and the doors fell back down, their metal clanking together.

It was a sound he had to have heard. She was sure of it. She listened to the floor above her. His footsteps had stopped. He was no longer pushing anything across the floor, and an uncomfortable feeling prickled down Justine’s spine. She looked around the room. She had no defense. She needed an object, something to hit him with when he came down. She quietly tiptoed to his desk. She scanned every edge of it, but all that sat upon it was a computer and a mouse. There was nothing she could use as a weapon.

Suddenly, his footsteps quickened above her, growing louder and closer as they approached the basement door. Without any other defense, Justine quickly flattened against the wall where the stairs ended. I have to try she thought as a tear trickled down her cheek. She would hit him before he even knew she was there, and then she would have an escape. She could run up the stairs. Her last ounce of hope danced frantically in her thoughts as the door swung open and he descended the stairs.

She could hear his cynical laugh before speaking her name. “Justine,” he called. “You awake?”

Three more steps, she said to herself. Two, one.

She swung around the corner, already punching and kicking, and she swung at his face, but he caught her arm in his grip. She kicked her leg out, attempting to hit him in the groin, but he bounced back before sending a punch right into her jaw. She stumbled back, falling to the floor as she screamed out in pain and blood pooled from her mouth. She felt her face. Her jaw was now shifted to one side, and she couldn’t bear to open it.

“Nice try,” he said as he walked casually to her. He bent down next to her. It was as if he were assessing her wound. “They always try to escape but never do,” he added. “It’s always fun to watch your prey run wild before you catch it again.” He let out a sinister laugh as he shook his head. He reached for her hair and slammed her head into the floor.

Justine’s mind swirled into a haze. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She could hear him move about the room, and he bent down beside her again, grabbed hold of her ankles, and tied something around them. It was painfully tight, and she winced, but she still couldn’t move as he did the same to her wrists.

He grabbed hold of a tarp in the room and rolled her into it, encasing all of her. She felt him lift her up, tossing her body over his shoulder, but she had nothing in her to fight back. He carried her up the stairs, through the house, until she heard the opening of a door, of a car unlocking, a trunk unlatching, and she was tossed inside. She now knew her fate, and she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. She wanted scream, but no sound could fill her lungs.

He pulled the tarp down by her face and smiled at her. She could see a string held in his grip, but she still couldn’t move. He pressed it up against her throat, harder and harder. Justine gasped for air. She wanted to claw at him, but her hands were tied. She wanted to scream, but she had no air, and her vision faded into blackness.

Chapter Twenty Nine

Tara stared down at her GPS as she placed her phone down in the middle console. She had just pulled out of the parking lot moments ago, and she was already ten minutes from the reporter’s house. She waited for Warren to pick up as her palms began to sweat onto the steering wheel. She wasn’t sure what he would think. If he would be annoyed that she drove

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