The Devil's Daughter (Hidden Sins #1)(90)

She kicked again, using her grip on the rope to bear down and leverage her weight into something more. The bed cracked even more, creating a gap large enough for her to slip the rope through.

Which was the exact moment Chase got his hands on her. He shoved her over the headboard, bending her in half. Eden’s breath left her in a whoosh, black spots dancing across her vision. She wouldn’t pass out. She fucking refused to. While he fumbled at her clothes, she twisted her arms beneath her, aiming to slide the rope through the gap she’d created. It hurt. It hurt so damn bad.

The rope popped free of the frame with a lurch that had her blinking and wondering if she’d imagined it. But when she brought her arms back beneath her, there was no tension. Free. Just need to get this monster off me.

She forced herself to go supple, to stop fighting him, and was rewarded with a grunt of what might be approval. Acid rose in her throat, but she fought that down just like she’d fought down every instinct demanding that she fight and claw and scream. There would be one chance to make this work.

“That’s a good girl.” His grip on her softened just a bit, and that was all the opportunity she needed.

Eden brought her elbow back into his stomach as hard as she could, twisting as much as possible to give the blow extra momentum. She didn’t give Chase a chance to recover; she slammed her heel into his instep and slid around to hit him on the side of the head with both fists. It flipped him onto his back, his expression dazed.

Finish it.

She knew exactly how to do it. She could loop the slack rope around his neck and pull, putting all her weight into it until he passed out. Until he could never hurt anyone else the way he hurt those girls. The way he’d wanted to hurt her.

She could put an end to it, once and for all.

Eden had never felt more like Martha Collins’s daughter than she did in that moment, coldly considering putting this semiconscious man down like a dog.

“That’s not who I am,” she whispered. “I am Eden Collins, BAU agent. Federal agent. I am not a murderer.” But she was also human, so she kicked him while he was down and then bent over to retrieve his service weapon. She patted him down as best she could with her hands tied, finding a knife in a sheath at his hip but nothing else. She needed to tie him down, but the cabin was empty except for the bed, and she didn’t have time. Beth would be back at any moment, and though she was reasonably sure she could take the other woman, if Chase recovered by then . . . Eden couldn’t take them both. She’d more than proven that.

She kicked him again for good measure, part of her taking a sick satisfaction in the way he groaned.

Rachel. Focus on Rachel. And getting the hell out of here.

Eden eyed the doorway but ultimately moved toward the gap in the wall that seemed to function as another door into a different room. Jon did a piss-poor job building this—and thank God for that. She ducked into the room, the gun held loosely in her hand. There was a second bed in here, shoved up against the far wall. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the slumped body next to it. She took a step before she registered that it was a man, and another before she recognized Jon, his skin waxy and ashen, his eyes vacant.

Not Jon, too. Goddamn it.

“They killed him,” Eden whispered.

It was only then that she noticed the huddled form curled up in the corner of the bed. “Rachel?”

She padded the rest of the way into the room, every instinct demanding she get out of this closed space where she could be trapped. Chase wouldn’t be down forever, and she wanted to be gone from here when he was. Probably need my hands untied, too. The rope was too tight for her to be able to wedge the knife in there without cutting herself, but she might have to try it anyway if Rachel couldn’t walk on her own.

Please be okay. Please.

She crouched down next to the bed, keeping a careful distance away from Jon’s body, half-sure she could feel his judgment despite his being dead. Should have been smarter. Should have known something was wrong with Beth, with Chase. “Rachel?” There was a single sheet over the girl, and she had the horrified thought that Rachel was dead and they just hadn’t gotten around to dumping her body yet. Steeling herself, she yanked the sheet down.

Rachel shoved her hands over her eyes. “No more. Please no more. Just kill me.”

“Rachel, it’s me. Eden. I’m here to get you out.” She shot a look at the doorway, but Chase didn’t appear. “But we have to move now.”

“Eden?” The girl opened her eyes, blinking as if she’d been in the dark for some time. “You’re really here?”

“I’m really here.” How many times had Rachel imagined someone coming through that door to save her, only to discover it was Beth or Chase, ready and willing to hurt her again. It’s only been a couple of days, and she’s alive. That’s more than the others can say. Cold comfort if there ever was one.

They weren’t out of this yet.

She started to finish pulling off the sheet but stopped when she realized the girl was naked. “Can you walk?”

“I don’t think so. My ankle.” Rachel sat up, swaying, and stuck her leg out from beneath the sheet. It was ugly and swollen, a myriad of blue and purple and black. Definitely sprained if not broken. She hiccuped, obviously fighting to keep control and not break down. “I tried to run. They made it so I couldn’t.”