Page 39 of Undying Resilience

So I go through the bathroom, looking for anything that I could use as a weapon. But the cabinet under the sink is empty. All I have is a bar of fucking soap.

As I’m about to turn away, I realize that’s not true. The lid to the top of the toilet could do a decent amount of damage if I’m able to get close enough to someone. Which I potentially could if I can keep the element of surprise.

Quietly, I take the lid off. It’s porcelain, so it’s kind of heavy, but that’s a good thing in this case. Then I tiptoe to the door, gripping the lid tightly.

As long as I can get out of this room, I think I have a decent chance of escaping. There’s still a car in the driveway, so all I have to do is find the keys for it. From there, I’ll need to wait until the two men who are walking the perimeter of the yard are behind the house. They won’t see me heading down the driveway, and then I should be clear.

I’m not sure where to go from there, but I’ll figure it out. It can’t take long until I hit a main road, right?

You can do this, Wren. One step at a time.

“Help,” I yell. “Help me, please!”

Pausing, I listen for movement downstairs. It takes a second, but then the sound of footsteps on the stairs reaches me.

Perfect.

“Help,” I shout again, adding in as much fear and desperation to my voice as I can.

When I hear the door unlocking, my stomach jumps. But I steady myself, raising the lid over my head so I’m ready to strike.

The door opens, and when one of Jordan’s men steps through, I slam the lid over his head. He stumbles, but it isn’t enough force to knock him out. With a yell, he lunges toward me, knocking the lid out of my hands. I manage to knee him in the balls, which causes him to double over, and then I slam my elbow into his back.

He falls to his knees, momentarily disoriented. It gives me just enough time to grab the lid again and whack him on the head. This time, he crumples to the floor with a thud, unconscious.

I don’t waste any time. First, I search his pockets, and relief spreads through my chest when I find what looks like a set of car keys. Then I grab his gun, keeping it in my hands so I can use it at a moment’s notice.

Outside the room, I lock the door hastily so he can’t come after me. The house is quiet, but I still sneak down the stairs. The first floor is fairly open, and thankfully I don’t see anyone else.

So far, so good.

Silently, I creep to one of the windows, peering out. The two guys walking the perimeter still have the driveway in their view, but only for another minute or so. And once the car is out of their sight, I’ll have a very short time frame to get into it and down the driveway. There won’t be a second to waste.

I’d kill them, but I’ve never actually shot a gun before. What if my aim is off and all I do is attract attention to myself? No, the best option is to try to get away without them noticing.

Once the house is almost blocking their view, I head outside through the front door. It’s freezing, and I realize I should’ve looked for a coat or at least taken the shirt from the man I knocked out. But I don’t have time to turn back.

Once I’m in the car, I shut the door quietly and turn it on, praying that the engine turning over isn’t loud enough to attract attention. And then I head down the driveway as fast as I can considering it’s covered in snow.

It’s surrounded by trees on either side, and there’s a turn before it hits the road. Just as I finish following the curve, I slam on the brakes. An SUV is heading up the driveway.

The car slides a bit before coming to a full stop. There’s no way for me to even try to get around the SUV. The trees make it too tight. So I get out, diving into the trees. It’s just starting to get dark out, but it’s not enough to conceal me.

A car door slams behind me. I don’t even make it thirty seconds before a large body is tackling me to the ground. The snow helps to cushion my fall, but it still hurts.

“No,” I scream as two pairs of hands yank me up. I try to twist out of their grasp, but it’s me against two men. They take me back to the SUV, lifting me and throwing me into the trunk.

As the door slams shut, I scramble to my hands and knees, only to come face to face with Oliver. His hands are zip tied behind his back, and he has a cut on his cheek.

What?

“Hey, princess.” He gives me a half-hearted smile.

“No. No, no no no. Oliver, how—”

“Shh,” he soothes. “I need you to calm down. Deep breaths, Wren.”

I shake my head as tears fill my eyes. Gently, I brush over the cut on his cheek. What happened? How did they kidnap Oliver, too? And if he’s here, then where are Elliot and Rhett?