Chapter 3

The air in the shed was thick and smelled of damp earth and something wild. I pressed my ear against the cold metal door, straining to hear past my own ragged breathing. I could hear muffled male voices and Chloe's tinkling laugh. They were outside, waiting.

My mind raced. Alexander knew Chloe was cruel. He must have known she was capable of something like this. Did he plan it? Or did he just not care what happened to me as long as he got what he wanted? The answer was a cold, hard knot in my stomach. He didn't care.

I had to get out. I refused to be a victim in their twisted drama.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom. I could make out shapes now-piles of old sacks, a rusty shovel, and the large glass tank. I crept closer to it. The python inside was huge, its body a thick coil of muscle and pattern. It was watching me with unblinking eyes.

I tried the shovel on the door, wedging it into the frame and pushing with all my weight. The metal groaned, but the bolt held firm. The voices outside got louder, more impatient.

"Come on, Chloe, let us in."

"Patience, boys," I heard her say. "Let her sweat a little."

Desperation clawed at me. I looked around again, my eyes landing on a small, high window, caked with dirt. It was my only chance. There was a stack of old wooden crates beneath it. They were rickety, but they would have to do.

I started stacking them, my hands shaking. The wood was old and splintery, digging into my palms. I finally got them high enough and carefully climbed up. The window was held shut by a rusty latch. I pushed and pulled, my fingers raw, until it finally gave way with a screech of protesting metal.

The sound was loud in the quiet shed.

"What was that?" a man's voice asked from outside.

"She's trying to get out! Get the door!" Chloe shrieked.

I heard them fumbling with the bolt. I didn't have much time. I smashed the dirty glass with the heel of my shoe, ignoring the sharp pain as a piece of glass sliced my hand. I pulled myself up and squeezed through the narrow opening. The jagged edges of the broken pane tore at my dress and skin, but I didn't care.

I fell onto the damp ground outside, landing hard on my shoulder. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the pain, and ran. I plunged into the dark woods behind the shed, branches whipping at my face. I didn't know where I was going, only that I had to get away.

Behind me, I heard shouts and the sound of them crashing through the undergrowth. I ran faster, my lungs burning.

After what felt like an eternity, I stumbled out onto a dark country road. I was miles from the main house. I pulled out my phone, my hands trembling so badly I could barely unlock it. My dress was torn, I was bleeding, and I was covered in mud.

My first instinct was to call Alexander. Despite everything, a small, stupid part of me hoped he would be horrified, that he would come and save me.

I dialed his number. He answered on the second ring.

"Scarlett? Where are you? The party's over." His voice was casual, unconcerned.

"Alexander," I gasped, "Chloe... she locked me in a shed. There were men... I had to break out..."

There was a pause. I could hear Chloe's voice in the background, a high-pitched, whining sound. "Alexander, darling, that woman is crazy. She attacked me and ran off. She's probably just looking for attention."

"Scarlett," Alexander's voice was cold now, all pretense of warmth gone. "Chloe is very upset. Whatever you think happened, you need to handle it. Don't call me again tonight. You're causing a scene."

The line went dead.

I stood there in the middle of the dark road, the phone still pressed to my ear. He had chosen her. He had listened to her obvious lies and had thrown me away without a second thought. The last fragile thread of hope I had been clinging to snapped. The betrayal was absolute, a physical pain in my chest.

I was completely and utterly alone.

Tears of rage and despair streamed down my face. Fine. If he wouldn't help me, if he was going to leave me to die, then I would find someone who would. I was done being his pawn. I was done being a victim.

My fingers, slick with blood, scrolled through my contacts. There was only one other number I had for anyone in that family. A number Liam had given me for "emergencies" related to my cover story.

I pressed the call button. It rang once, twice.

A calm, quiet voice answered. "Hello?"

"Daniel?" I choked out. "It's Sarah... I mean, Scarlett. I'm in trouble. I need your help. Please."

There was a moment of silence on the other end. Then, "Where are you?"