“Dean.” His name breaks on my tongue, and I bob my knees up and down, desperate for freedom. “Please.”
He swallows, blinking at me and nodding his head. “I’m sorry… yeah, okay...” Dean jumps into action, putting the grisly truths aside until we are out of here.
He pauses to glance at Earl’s body, and I think he’s going to search him for the key to the handcuffs.
Instead, he runs back to his pole and slides down to his knees, his hands roving over the cement to find the pin of the belt. He locates it, then stumbles over to me with wild eyes and blood-stained skin. “This might take a few minutes.”
I nod, closing my eyes so I don’t have to look at the mangled body lying in front of me. I can feel Dean’s breaths beating against my hair as his hands shake and quiver while they try to unchain me.
It takes a long time. Ten—maybe fifteen minutes. But when the cuffs finally slip loose and clatter against the cement floor, I pull my arms free with a cry of relief. I hear the pin follow with a tiny clank, and Dean’s forehead falls against the pole beside me while he takes a minute to regroup. I turn to him, watching his eyes close as he tries to control his breathing. His sticky hands cling to the pipe—the same piece of metal that has held me captive in this hellhole for almost three weeks.
I reach out my own unsteady hand, placing it against his shoulder, stepping forward until we are almost fully touching. Dean’s jaw clenches and unclenches as he twists his head to the side, still leaning against the pole, finding my face. I rub my hand along his back, much like he had done at the veterinary hospital that dreary afternoon with Blizzard. Our eyes hold as I try to quiet the demons so clearly wreaking havoc on his mind.
And then, in one fell swoop, Dean tugs me towards him as he stands up straight, crushing me to his chest, his arms wrapping around me and holding tight.
My own arms slink around his middle, my face buried against his racing heart. I can smell blood and fear and terror and victory. I feel him trembling in my embrace, his body coming down from the massive adrenaline spike. He hugs me tighter and tighter, and I don’t even care that my ribs are screaming in resistance—he could never hug me tight enough.
Our emotions begin to settle and we slowly pull apart, our eyes lingering for one potent beat before he takes my hand and pulls me to the staircase.
I don’t spare Earl, or whatever’s left of him, a final glance as we race past his body. He’s not worth another second of my life.
We won.
Dean is scrubbing his hands and arms in the kitchen sink with a bristled brush, erasing all remnants of Earl off his skin. He’s relentless and harsh, washing and cleansing until his flesh is pink and raw. I watch the water run red as Dean’s eyes stay laser focused on his task. Even when all of the blood has disappeared down the drain, he keeps scrubbing.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
“Dean,” I say gently, coming up behind him in an attempt to distract him.
He doesn’t hear me.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
“It’s okay, Dean.”
He keeps scrubbing. Dean is trying to cleanse more than just his skin.
Tiny specks of blood begin to form along the surface of his arms, and I finally reach my hand out and place it against his shoulder. “Dean, stop. You’re hurting yourself.”
He pauses his movements, turning around and glancing between me and the blood-tinged bristles. He swallows. “Sorry, I just…” Dean trails off, but he doesn’t need to finish the sentence.
We both know exactly what he’s doing.
I jump in place when police sirens sound in the distance, and I waste no time running to the back door off the kitchen.
“Cora, wait. They’ll come inside to get us,” Dean says, trying to keep me from darting out into the subzero weather in nothing but a blood-stained t-shirt.
But I can’t listen to logic or reason right now. Safety is roughly four-hundred yards away, and I’m desperate, reckless, aching, to have a taste of humanity. I can’t wait.
I’m done waiting.
The door slams against the wall as I whip it open, and the icy air blasts my face. I gasp at the intensity of it, but it doesn’t stop my feet from launching me forward, pulling me closer to freedom. There’s a dirt road behind the house, and I try not to think about the fact that if I’d gone out this door two days earlier, I probably would have made a successful escape. We’d have two extra days with our families in our warm beds, eating real food.
I could have spared Dean from a grisly crime that he will likely carry with him for the rest of his life.
But I try not to think about that. There’s no room for what ifs right now.
As I stumble forward, I clutch my throbbing ribs as they scream at me to go slow. My head is pounding, my body is crumbling, my limbs are numbing from the cold, and I realize I’ve barely made it a few feet. I see the flashing lights ahead, though, and it’s too tempting—too seductive. I need to keep moving.
I press on, holding back my cries of pain as I push forward across the crunchy leaves and frost-tipped grass. It’s then that I feel him behind me, his warmth touching me before his hands ever do.
“I’ve got you.” Dean throws a jacket over my shoulders and picks me up off the ground, one arm around my back and the other tucked under my knees. We pause for a moment, our eyes catching, and I wrap my own arms around his neck, allowing him to carry me the rest of the way.
I lay my head against his shoulder, and I swear I could fall asleep. Even though I’m half-naked with broken bones, caked in blood and dirt and semen, being trekked through an open field in the arms of my sister’s fiancé—I’m at peace. I feel safe. I’m exhausted.
My soul is exhausted.
I listen to Dean’s arduous breaths as he totes me through the property in his strong arms. I concentrate on his heartbeats, quick and steady. I can’t help but wonder what the future holds for us now. It’s impossible to go back to the way we were because we aren’t those people anymore. We’ve been through too much. We’ve seen too much.
I’ve witnessed the deepest, darkest parts of Dean. I’ve seen him cry and kill and come.
He’s been inside me.
When we finally reach the dusty, blocked-off road where police cruisers, ambulances, FBI, media, and firetrucks are all lined up, I burrow my face deeper into the crevice of Dean’s shoulder. After three weeks of surviving the bowels of Hell with this man, I realize I don’t even know how to process life beyond our nightmare.
Dean sets me down, gingerly and careful, and we stand there for a moment facing our new reality together.
A fresh start. A second chance.
Flashing lights, noise, cameras, faces attached to people who will never understand.
I inhale a splintered breath, closing my eyes, feeling overwhelmed and panicked and relieved all at once.
And then his knuckles graze against my own like a soft kiss, a knowing touch, a promise. I feel his fingers interlace with mine. We stand there, hand-in-hand, watching as EMTs and police officers move towards us like a slow-motion movie. I hold onto him. He’s still my lifeline. He’s still all I have.
We’re in this together.
Chapter Thirteen
I stare at a black ant crawling along the toe of my shoe.