Page 54 of Slaying for Santa

When she’s done, I lower Libi back to the ground, turning off the water to look over her. Lowering to my haunches, I run my hands over her head and arms, checking for wounds, but nothing seems amiss.

“Did they hurt you?” I ask her, my eyes locking with those big blue ones that are still swimming with fear.

She shakes her head and starts crying again. “No. I just want to go home.”

“I know, sweetie.” I cup her little face and brush over her wet cheeks with my thumbs. “You’ll be back with your daddy in no time. I promise. Okay?”

She nods, completely trusting me, so I pull her into my arms and hug her close.

My eyes flick to the door to find three locks which makes escaping unnoticed out of the question.

Shit. This is a fucking conundrum if I ever saw it.

Now would probably be a good time to completely admit that I’ve fucked up. I did no research. No habit tracking or routine stalking. Just went in all bloody willy-nilly, and now,I’m locked in a room in a house somewhere south of Sydney.

The sound of heavy feet coming our way has us both stiffening, and I lurch up, pushing Libi towards the far corner and snatching up my blades.

Libi starts crying again, slapping her own hand over her mouth as she pushes herself flush into the corner, her little eyes terrified as they remain locked on the door.

Fuck.

I hate this.

I hate seeing her so scared.

If these fuckers have done something to her?—

The sound of locks clicking open has me moving, and I rush over to Libi, spinning to face the door just as it slams open, bouncing off the wall.

A screech flies from Libi behind me, and I manage to hide the knives behind my back as I try to make myself bigger to hide Libi.

“Time for a top up,” one of the bouncers from earlier grunts, holding something up, and when he steps into the room, the moment the light hits him, I see the syringe.

Shit. I know what that is. It’s not the reddish colour of whatever sedative they injected me with before. It’s white.

Cocaine.

My heart flips at the sight of the drug of choice from my past.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

No. I don’t want that. I don’t.

“Stay back!” I yell, curling my lip as I bare my teeth, and I see the moment he realises I’m not the same damsel from the living room before.

“She has bark now.” He laughs. “But does she bite?”

He steps further into the room, and Libi shrieks from behind me.

“Get away!”

Spinning quickly to face her, I take her hand and wrap her tiny palm around the hilt of one of the knives.

“If he comes near you,” I whisper quickly, “stab him in the eye with this.”

She sobs but nods as I spin back to see the thug heading my way, and I quickly shuffle along the wall to put space between me and Libi.

“You can’t escape me,” he chuckles, like this is a game of chase.