Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(69)

If the situation wasn’t so dire, maybe I could think more clearly. But as it is, I have no more theories. I am officially lost.

Suddenly, I hear voices ring out from upstairs. Rick and Haven are returning from shooting. Damn, they have no idea Eric is in the house. And I have no way to warm them.

Eric hears the activity above us, his head jerking upward.

With her voice muffled through the closed door at the top of the stairs, my captor and I listen as Haven says to Rick, “Wonder where Essa wandered off to? You don’t think Farren returned while we were out back, do you?”

“No,” Rick replies, “he’s not due back for another hour or two.”

An evil grin spreads across Eric’s face. I have to warn Haven and Rick. But when I try to yell, all that comes out of my covered mouth is a low whimper. Even though there is no way I could have been heard, Eric grabs me by the neck and squeezes so hard that he ends up pulling me partway out of the chair, despite being roped down like an animal.

“Stay the f*ck quiet,” he warns. His steely eyes bore into my own tear-filled ones. I nod rapidly, and he lets go. If I wasn’t tied, I’d be doubling over from the pain. But as it is, only a muffled choking noise escapes me as I try to catch my breath through my nose.

Haven speaks again, and I hear Rick saying something about how hot it is in the house. It’s cooler in the basement, but I’m still roasting. I can only imagine what it feels like upstairs.

Suddenly, someone starts to turn the doorknob on the basement door. Eric lifts his pant leg and pulls a pistol from a holster on his ankle.

I knew he was armed.

He makes a shushing noise to me, even though I can’t talk. Asshole. I am bound and helpless. And that fact is never more apparent than when events begin to occur. Events I find I have no control over.

I whimper and struggle, but there’s nothing I can do when Eric races up the basement steps. There is no warning I can shout out when the door swings open. I catch a glimpse of Rick in silhouette, before Eric slams his pistol into Rick’s temple. Haven screams as Rick tumbles down the basement steps.

Rick’s body settles at the base of the stairs, unmoving. Haven is still screaming, and Eric warns her to “shut the f*ck up.”

He starts to drag Haven down the stairs as she tries to get herself under control. When she has to step over Rick to move forward, she begs, “Let me make sure he’s okay. Please, Eric, just let me check on him.”

Eric has her in his grasp. “No,” is his one-word response. Thankfully, I can see Rick’s chest is rising and falling. He’s alive, at least.

When Haven catches sight of me tied up in the center of the basement, she gasps, “Oh, no, Essa.” She turns to Eric and says, “Just let her go, please. Take me. Leave her alone.”

“Haven,” he chides. “Always trying to be the hero, just like your brother.”

“Eric,” Haven pleads, “please just untie her.”

He laughs. “Oh, I will”—Eric’s cold blue eyes slide to me—“when I’m ready to f*ck her.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and pray he’s not serious.

Haven starts to squirm in Eric’s grasp. “Shut up,” she yells. “You’re disgusting. Get the hell off of me.” She struggles valiantly, but Eric grabs her cheek where there’s still a remnant of a bruise—surely one from him—and squeezes hard.

That stops her. She cries out and goes slack. With Haven subdued, Eric swings around the chair he was sitting in. He shoves Haven down on it and ties her up next to me. Her teary eyes meet mine as he tightens her ropes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

I give her a look that I hope conveys that this is absolutely not her fault.

Thankfully, despite his disgusting threat, Eric makes no move to sexually assault me. He leaves Haven alone, too. He doesn’t even bother to tape her mouth shut. My duct tape, however, remains in place.

Eric waits for Farren. His chips are in place; he has me and Haven. And now he’s biding his time, waiting to strike.

I watch as he methodically drags Rick’s limp body from the base of the stairs to the laundry nook. Rick is still unconscious. Eric ties him to a pipe, peers down at him. After studying his handiwork of knots, he returns to where Haven and I are bound to the chairs.

He takes his gun out again, makes sure it’s loaded, and then says in a tone that chills me to the bone, “Now, we wait for Farren.”





An hour later, someone arrives at the house. But it’s not Farren who starts down the basement steps. When I take in the tall man with the dark hair, a man who slightly resembles Farren, I gasp.

“Vincent?” I mumble through my duct-taped mouth.

Haven’s left hand, though tied, is close enough to my tied-up right hand that she’s able to stretch her fingers out and reach me. It’s a move meant to comfort us both, but when I feel her trembling, my own fear ratchets up a few notches. Vincent may not have assaulted her, but he never attempted to free her either. Nor did he stop the things Eric—and the others—did to her. Plus, I can’t forget that Vincent had no qualms about drugging me the night he and Eric abducted Haven.

My body shakes as I wonder what could have brought him here.

Haven, who’s clearly the stronger of the two of us, squeezes my hand. “It’ll be okay, Essa,” she mutters quietly.