Flynn found the large farmhouse surrounded by forest and nearly drove through the front door.
His gut clenched when he saw shattered glass covering the porch. He stopped at the droplets of blood on the porch and ground. That meant someone had broken out of the house rather than in. Carina’s blood?
But he wanted to clear the house first, just in case she was still inside, so he moved quickly, checking every room. In the upstairs bedroom, his chest seized. There was a small pool of blood on the carpet in the middle of the room. He ran over to the small mound on the bed, ignoring the bag of liquid attached to the IV pole, and pulled back the sheet.
Linens…piled up in a ball.
His brows tugged together. Had Carina done this? To make Greg think it was her? Had she used it to get away?
He moved through the last few rooms. No one here. The house was empty.
The double garage housed the damn car that had driven past his mother’s house. A car owned by the twins. And beside it was an empty spot.
He crouched down at the sight of more drops of blood near the empty space. The blood was still wet, not even tacky yet. Either the asshole had taken her somewhere, or Carina had hurt him before running, and he’d gone after her. Either way, it hadn’t been too long ago. Maybe Flynn could catch him. The roads nearest the farmhouse had been almost empty. If Greg was on the road, he might just be able to spot him.
Running out of the garage, Flynn was a moment from jumping back into his car when he saw them—small footprints in the dirt leading away from the porch.
Into the forest.
Suddenly, he connected it all. She did get away from Greg. Had somehow hurt him. Then she’d run. And he’d gotten in his car to search for her.
The thought had barely entered Flynn’s mind before he was running, moving through the trees, and tracking every print in the dirt. It was getting dark, but the dark didn’t bother him. He had great night vision. If anything, it was an advantage. He could see what others couldn’t.
His heart stuttered at every occasional droplet of blood near the tracks. She was injured. His mind went back to the second pool of blood in the bedroom of his mother’s house. Had that been hers? Was it the same injury?
From behind, he could hear the faint sound of cars pulling up. Voices. It was his team.
When he found a hand-dug hole in the forest floor, he paused, cursing viciously under his breath at what was inside. Victoria’s body. The asshole had killed her like he’d killed the twins, if the car in the garage was anything to go by. And when Flynn found him—because he would find him—Greg was going to pay for all of it.
A house. Carina could just make it out in the distance. It sat tall at two stories, and smoke billowed from the chimney. That meant someone was home, right? Please, God, let someone be home.
The air wheezed in and out of her chest. The wound in her side throbbed in time with every heartbeat. Each step was harder than the last. And every time she stopped, every time she paused at all, it took everything inside her to move again. To not fall into a heap on the ground and give in to the pain and dizziness.
She briefly pressed a hand to her side. Blood coated her fingers.
The only thing keeping her going was the house. She’d smelled the smoke before she saw it and used it to push herself to keep moving. She could rest when she was safe. When the psychopath wasn’t trying to kidnap her and keep her as an imprisoned guest in his home.
Finally, she cleared the trees. She could have sunk to the ground with relief. She’d made it. And by the look of the lights shining from the downstairs windows, someone was home.
Thank God.
She took a step toward the house, and her legs tried to buckle. But she locked her knees and forced herself to remain upright.
Just a few more steps, Carina. Get to safety, then you can rest. One foot at a time.
With her hand clamped to her side, she almost felt like she was holding herself together. Keeping herself from bleeding out. When she traversed the backyard and reached the front corner of the house, she suddenly clutched it like a lifeline. Like if she let go, she’d fall to the ground and never make it back to her feet.
Her eyes closed. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Breathe.
She repeated those words three times in her head before finally opening her eyes again.
She was moments from stepping forward when the sound of a car reached her ears. The driveway was too long for her to see it yet, but the engine was coming closer. And something inside her, maybe a whispered warning in her head, urged her to move back. Get out of sight. Hide.
Swallowing a gulp of air, she slid backward, pressing against the house, and closed her eyes once more. The car drew closer, causing her heart to speed up in her chest. A chest that suddenly felt heavy.
The car stopped. Then the door opened and closed, followed by footsteps nearing the front of the house. When the doorbell rang, she sucked in a sharp breath.
The door opened, and a man’s friendly voice boomed, “Hi there. What can I do for you today?”
“Hi.” The dread that had been gnawing at her stomach increased tenfold at the sound of that voice. Oh, God. Greg. “I’m just staying down the road at number forty-two, and I was wondering if you could help me with something.”
“You’re staying next door? I didn’t know anyone had moved in since Margaret died. Nice to meet you, neighbor. How can I help?”
“I have my sister staying with me. She suffers from severe schizophrenia.” Sweat beaded Carina’s forehead at Greg’s blatant lie. “Unfortunately, she went off her meds and had a bit of an episode. Hit me in the head and ran like I was the devil.”
A wave of dizziness swept over Carina. She leaned back against the wall and tried to apply more pressure to her wound.
“Jesus, that doesn’t sound good. Look, I’d like to help, but I haven’t seen any woman around here.”
“Mind if I check your property? Being the closest neighbor, and with your fire going, this is likely the first place she’d run.”
Dammit. She’d made the obvious choice. And now she might pay the price.
Her gaze darted to the line of trees. If they checked inside the house first or even went the other way around the big place, she might just be able to—
“I’ll join you.” Heavy footsteps started walking right toward her.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Ignoring the pain in her side, Carina moved as fast as her injured body would allow toward the back of the house. She’d just turned the corner when she heard the men reach the side.
There was a tool shed right in front of her. It wasn’t ideal, but it was all she had. The back door to the house was too far, and even if she made it, there was every chance it would be locked. Then she’d be screwed.
She moved quickly, dropping behind the shed and working hard to quiet her breathing.
The second she was still, the dizziness muddled her brain, and she almost tipped back onto the lawn. She leaned her head against the shed.
“Has she done this before?” the guy asked.
“Unfortunately, yes. It’s one of those situations where she doesn’t realize what’s good for her. It’s my fault, really. I should have kept a closer eye on her.”
“We live and we learn.”
As the footsteps moved behind the house, Carina’s breath caught. Her entire body trembled.
When the door to the tool shed opened, she half rose, ready to move around the small shed to avoid them, should they search behind it.
Instead, weak and tired, her knees gave way, sending her thudding to her ass on the ground.
Before she could push herself up, an older man wearing blue overalls stepped around the shed, stopping in front of her.
Their gazes met. For a moment, he was silent as he studied her face. Then his gaze darted down her half-naked body to the large bloodstain on her shirt.
His eyes widened as he turned to Greg. “Hang on—”
The gun went off before the man could finish speaking, the bullet hitting him in the chest and sending him sprawling.
Before she could scream, Greg was moving toward her.
She didn’t think, she just acted.
Lifting a leg, she kicked as hard as she could at his knee. He cried out, falling to the ground.
Carina kicked again, this time at his head. He wore a hat, probably to cover his wound, but she was sure she’d kicked him right where the flashlight had hit.
He growled, curling into a ball and grabbing his head. She pushed to her feet and ran around the house. The pain in her side was crippling, but she ignored it and sprinted to his car. She yanked at the driver’s door, crying out in anguish when she found it locked.
Footsteps thudded from the backyard. She ran toward the house and moved up the stairs of the porch as fast as possible, almost sobbing in relief when the door opened.
The last thing she saw was Greg leaping up the stairs as she slammed the door closed and turned the lock.
Angry fists hit the wood. “Open the fucking door, Carina!”
She turned to run down the short hall off the foyer, but her legs caved yet again. The second she hit the floor, her mind started to fog. Oh God! She wasn’t going to last. She was losing blood, and the pain was weakening her.
Just a bit longer, Carina.
Using every ounce of strength she possessed, Carina pushed to her feet. She wanted to lean on the wall but knew she’d just leave bloody prints, which would lead Greg straight to her.
So instead, she stumbled through the living area to the open kitchen, all the while trying to stem the blood and not leave a trail.
When a gun went off, she jumped, almost falling to her knees again. Jesus. He was shooting the door!
She moved faster, grabbing the biggest blade in the knife block as she went. She’d just stepped away from the counter when she heard the door opening. Silently, she used the bottom of her shirt to open the small pantry door and slip inside before tugging it closed.
Darkness surrounded her. The fear was suffocating. She closed her eyes and worked hard to simply breathe and concentrate.
Greg would find her. Probably soon. There was no way around it. She just had to make sure she stabbed him before he grabbed her. She didn’t think he would shoot her. Not to kill, anyway. He wanted to keep her as a trophy wife or something, right?
But maybe that had changed. Maybe her decision to hit him on the head and run had made him decide to dispose of her, like he’d done to Victoria and to those kids. The man was unhinged, so who the hell knew?
“I’m going to find you, Carina.” His voice came from the living area, but his quiet footsteps drew closer. “You shouldn’t have fought me. You should have accepted my love. I would have treated you well. Now, I’m not so sure you deserve the life I had planned for us.”
He was in the kitchen. Her heart clattered so loud in her chest she was certain he could hear.
“To be honest, I didn’t know I was capable of all this,” he said, almost conversationally. “You’ve taught me that love makes us do crazy things. It makes us strong where we were otherwise weak. It makes us fearless.”
Love? He didn’t love her. This was a sick obsession. The man was used to getting what he wanted, and when he couldn’t have her, he’d lost his mind.
She lifted the knife and pointed it toward the door.
“It’s why the police never suspected me. Not really. I don’t have a record. I’m educated. Hell, that cop, Tom… He barely spared me a thought.” There was a pause. “The further you drifted away from me, the further I was willing to go to get you back.”
When he drew closer to the pantry, a whimper tried to sneak up her throat, but she swallowed it down.
“Ah, you took a knife. Smart. I wonder if you could actually stab me though? Do you think you’re capable of killing a person? It takes a special kind of courage to do that.”
He was so close. She steeled her spine. This was the moment. It was him or her.
When the door opened, she lunged.
Greg dodged the knife and grabbed her around the waist. She attempted to wrench away, and they both fell, the clatter of weapons hitting the floor echoing through the room.
The second she hit the hard tiles, pain like nothing else laced through her body. Greg landed on top of her. Her vision tunneled, but she blinked away the darkness, refusing to give in.
She swung a knee up between his legs. He howled, grabbing himself, and she tried to crawl away, but his hand wrapped around her calf, pulling her back beneath him.
Then his hands were around her neck, squeezing.
Her fingers went to his hands, desperately trying and failing to pull them off. Anger distorted his features.
“I would have given you the world!” he shouted, lifting her head before slamming it back to the floor. Another round of pain swamped her. “Anything you wanted, it would have been yours!”
Except freedom.
The words were a whisper in her head that had no way of getting out. She couldn’t breathe, let alone speak.
The light started to fade to black, the energy to fight seeping from her limbs.
His head lowered. “You should have just loved me back!”
Her legs flailed weakly, and her hands scrabbled at the tiled floor.
That’s when she felt something cold by her pinky. Cold and metal.
The knife…
One last fight to live.
She’d barely whispered the words in her head before she grabbed the knife and plunged it into Greg’s side.
