Chapter 41 - FORTY ONE

Chapter 41: Chapter FORTY ONE

ANGEL

My feet were bleeding.

I could feel it with every step, the sting of rocks and debris cutting into my soles.

All I saw were trees, no roads or houses. Nothing but endless forest like the world had forgotten civilization existed.

Where the hell was I? Had he brought me to the end of the earth?

I was beyond exhausted and dehydrated, every muscle in my body screaming for me to stop, to collapse right here on the forest floor and let whatever came next just happen. But I kept moving because I was terrified, too afraid that Damien might appear behind me.

Was he dead?

The question circled my mind like a vulture.

Another terrifying thought was what if I was not making any progress?

I’d have no way of knowing since the trees all looked the same. I could be running straight back to the cabin for all I knew.

A frustrated sob left my mouth as I realized it was already evening, dark clouds gathering in the sky.

The thought of being trapped in this forest all night spread a shudder through me.

What if there were wild animals? Or worse—what if Damien somehow survived and was searching for me right now?

Then I heard it.

Almost like a miracle.

A car engine, distant but unmistakable.

My heart lurched hard against my chest. A road?

There was a road nearby!

I crashed through the underbrush toward the sound, branches tearing at my skin but I barely registered the pain.

And suddenly I was staring at an actual road! I blinked, unable to believe my eyes.

But what if the approaching car was Damien? The thought paralyzed me.

A blue sedan appeared around the curve and my body made the decision before my brain could—I stumbled back into the trees, pressing myself against a trunk as the car passed.

My heart hammered so hard I thought it might burst through my ribs.

Idiot. That could’ve been my way out.

Or it could’ve been him.

I waited as two more cars passed, my breath coming in short gasps, every instinct screaming at me to hide and stay invisible.

Then an older SUV came around the bend, driving slower than the others.

I didn’t let myself think, I stumbled onto the road and waved my arms frantically, my voice coming out as a broken rasp. "Please! Please stop!"

The SUV slowed down and I held my breath, my entire body trembling. What if I’d made a mistake? What if. . .

The window came down.

A woman sat behind the wheel—not Damien. Relief crushed through my chest so violently that I almost collapsed.

She had dark hair, maybe forty-something, her skin was tanned, and her eyes went wide as she studied me.

"Help me. Please, I need help," I rushed out desperately.

Confusion clouded her gaze before she spoke.

Her voice was too fast, words that sounded pretty but made no sense.

Spanish. I recognized the language but didn’t understand it.

Panic flooded through me. Where was I? How far had Damien taken me?

"I don’t understand." I pressed my palms together, hoping that meant the same thing everywhere, a universal language for begging.

She looked me over—my bare feet, the oversized shirt, my face that probably looked as wrecked as I felt.

For a horrible moment, I thought she might drive away, leave me here alone as darkness fell. Then she reached across and opened the passenger door.

I hesitated for only a second before getting in.

The seat was soft and the car smelled like flowers and vanilla, a scent so normal that I felt my eyes sting with tears. It felt like ages since I’d perceived something this beautiful.

She put the car in drive and said something in that gentle voice, and though I didn’t understand the words, the tone felt almost kind.

I wanted to believe that.

We pulled onto the road and I watched the forest disappear behind us, each mile taking me farther from the cabin.

From everything that had happened in that nightmare.

Away from him.

Tears started falling and I couldn’t stop them, my whole body shaking with sobs I’d been holding back since I’d run.

The woman reached over and patted my knee, murmuring something soft in Spanish.

I cried harder because I was free.

This wasn’t a dream.

I was actually, finally free.

The trees changed as we drove, palm trees now, mixed with the others, and the air smelled like salt.

Tropical.

Was I on a fucking island? I watched the surroundings with dread.

How was I supposed to escape an island?

We passed a few people, a man on a motorcycle, two women walking with baskets—and each time I tensed, half-expecting one of them to be Damien, to see those grey eyes staring back at me.

Suddenly, a loud, sharp chime echoed through the vehicle.

I jumped out of my skin. A ringtone. She had a phone.

Why didn’t I think to ask her right away?!

I watched her intently as she tapped a button on her steering wheel, speaking rapidly in fluent Spanish into the hands-free system. The call lasted less than a minute. The moment she disconnected, I forced my thick tongue to move.

"Phone," I pleaded, "Please."

"¿Qué?" She cast a swift, confused glance sideways at me.

"Phone. Please!" I pointed wildly at the smartphone resting in the center console tray, my fingers shaking.

She hesitated for a beat, scanning my frantic expression, before reaching down and handing the device to me.

I gripped the cold metal tightly, my mind racing in a dozen different directions at once. Who could I call? Where could I go? I had no money, no shoes, no identification.

The only person in the world who could fix this was Daddy. But as I stared at the keypad, Damien’s poisonous words echoed in my ears with terrifying clarity: Daddy killed your parents. He signed you up for this. He sold you.

No. I shook my head violently, refusing the thought. I couldn’t believe it. After everything I’d endured, I refused to accept that the man who raised me, who loved me, had handed me over to a monster. There had to be a logical explanation. There had to be a mistake.

First, I swiped down on the screen to check the location data. The cellular network was connected.

The map text read: Isla Roja.

My heart dropped into my stomach. The Caribbean. He had flown me out of the country entirely.

With trembling hands, I tapped out Daddy’s private cell number—a sequence of digits etched into my memory. I hit dial and pressed the speaker to my ear, counting every agonizing pulse of the ringback tone.

Ring...

Ring...

Ring...

"You have reached the voicemail of—"

I slammed the disconnect button, a panicked gasp escaping my lips. I redialed immediately.

One ring. Two rings. Three—

The line went dead. The call was abruptly dropped.

A curse burst from my lips.

Why wasn’t Daddy answering?

Where could I go now?

What if he really had sold me?

What if Damien had been telling the truth all along?

I inhaled raggedly as questions burned rapidly in my mind. I also noticed my saviour was watching me at intervals through the rearview mirror.

I didn’t know who to trust.

Damien’s words or Daddy.

In the end, I decided to follow my heart.

"Hello Daddy, it’s me..."

I left a voicemail telling him about my location and that Damien had kidnapped me but I managed to escape.

Now what should I do? Should I go to the police or wait?

But what would I even tell the police? That I’d maybe killed someone?

The car jerked to a sudden stop.

I looked up, confused. "What’s happening?"

The woman said something in Spanish, gesturing ahead.

We were parked in front of a house. Large. Two stories painted in warm colors with a wide porch and bars on some of the windows. It looked to be a vacation house. Or rather I should say mansion.

The woman got out and gestured for me to follow.

I climbed out slowly, my bare feet touching warm concrete.

She opened the door and ushered me inside.

The first thing I noticed was the music.

Then the voices. And finally the women.

They looked to be about my age, all six of them scattered around the room.

They all turned to look at me as we approached.

They were dressed in... not much.

Tiny shorts and bikini tops.

Their makeup was immaculate even though it was evening.

The woman who’d brought me started speaking rapidly to them in Spanish. Explaining something.

Several of the women responded, their voices rising. Arguing, I realized.

They were arguing about me.

Did they not want me here? Was I bringing trouble to their doorstep?

One of the women, tall and beautiful with strawberry blonde hair and red lipstick looked me up and down with something like anger. She said something sharp to the woman who’d brought me.

The woman responded firmly. Pointed at me and said something that sounded like a command.

The tall woman rolled her eyes but stepped back.

The woman who’d rescued me turned to me and smiled.

"Welcome," she said in a perfect, unaccented English.

Every hair on my body stood up.