Chapter 5 First Escape

Raven's POV

I didn't believe him.

I spent the rest of the day convincing myself that Reaper was lying. He was a criminal who sold guns and drugs, and he had kidnapped me in front of a hundred people without showing the slightest concern. A man like that would say anything to turn me against my father.

My father attended church every Easter and donated money to the children's hospital every Christmas. He had even cried when they called my name at my nursing school graduation. He wasn't the kind of man who would pay someone to shoot a twenty-year-old boy and leave him bleeding on the side of the road.

But every time I closed my eyes, I remembered his face at the party. He had looked so frightened, his skin gray as he stared at the floor instead of looking at me. Then there was the text message he had sent.

Do what he says. I'm sorry.

An innocent man wouldn't apologize like that.

I pushed the thought aside. Whatever my father had done, it didn't change the fact that I needed to get out of there. Once I got home, I could confront him myself, and he would explain everything. He always had.

After breakfast, Rose took me back to the room and locked the door behind me. This time, I didn't bother trying to pull the bars off the window. Instead, I dragged the chair over, sat down, and began watching what happened outside.

From the window, I could see part of the yard and the front gate. Two men stood guard there throughout the morning, smoking and talking. Around noon, two other men came out of the clubhouse to replace them. I kept track of the time using the clock beside the bed, and at six that evening, the guards changed again.

I paid attention to other things as well. The kitchen's back door opened onto a small yard with several trash cans and a broken fence. Nobody seemed to guard that area. Beyond the fence, there was nothing but sand, rocks, and cacti stretching as far as I could see. Somewhere out there had to be a road. After all, we had arrived on one.

Later that afternoon, Rose unlocked the door again.

"You're helping me in the kitchen tonight," she announced. "It's Friday. The boys are having a party, and I'm not feeding forty men by myself."

I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it. They had kidnapped me, and now they expected me to cook for them.

But I didn't argue because the kitchen had a back door, and I already knew where it led.

By nine o'clock, the clubhouse was packed with people. Music shook the walls, and I could hear men shouting and laughing over the noise. Women I hadn't seen before came and went, dressed in tight dresses and high heels. Bottles of beer and whiskey moved from the bar to the tables so quickly that I lost count.

Rose kept me busy throughout the evening. I prepared sandwiches, carried trays to the door, and washed more glasses than I had ever seen in my life. Every few minutes, another biker came into the kitchen looking for food, and each time, I could feel his eyes following me.

I hadn't seen Reaper all evening. Someone mentioned that he was in a meeting at the back of the clubhouse with the older man, whose name I had learned was Dutch. I hoped their meeting would last the entire night.

Around eleven, a fight broke out near the pool table. I heard glass shattering, followed by men shouting at one another. Rose cursed under her breath, wiped her hands on her apron, and marched out of the kitchen to deal with them.

For the first time since arriving at the clubhouse, I was completely alone.

I knew I couldn't waste time thinking about what I was about to do. If I hesitated, I might lose my nerve.

My party heels were still sitting beside the back door, where I had left them that morning. I glanced at them briefly before deciding to leave them behind. There was no way I could run in those shoes. I opened the door, stepped outside, and quietly pulled it shut behind me.

The music grew quieter as I crossed the small yard. My heart was pounding so hard that I could hear it in my ears. When I reached the broken fence, I found the gap I had spotted from the window and squeezed through it. A loose piece of wire caught my T-shirt and tore the fabric, but I didn't stop.

I ran as fast as I could.

The ground was rough and cold beneath my bare feet. Small stones dug into my skin, and at one point, I stepped on something sharp enough to make me bite my lip to keep from crying out. But I didn't care about the pain. I kept running into the darkness, putting as much distance as possible between myself and the clubhouse while heading in the direction where I believed the road would be.

I didn't have a plan. I didn't even have my phone because Rose had taken it that morning. I had no water, and I had no idea how far I would have to run before reaching a road. All I knew was that every step took me farther away from Reaper.

After a while, the music faded completely. The only sounds I could hear were my own breathing and my bare feet striking the sand. The desert was so dark that I could barely see my hands in front of me. The temperature had dropped much lower than I had expected, and my thin T-shirt offered almost no protection against the cold.

Eventually, I stopped to catch my breath and looked behind me.

The clubhouse had become nothing more than a faint glow in the distance, and there was no sign of anyone following me. For one wonderful moment, I actually believed I had managed to escape.

Then I heard an engine.

A single headlight appeared behind me, far away at first. Whoever was riding wasn't speeding toward me. The motorcycle moved slowly, almost lazily, as though the rider had all the time in the world.

I started running again.

The headlight followed me, maintaining the same distance no matter what I did. When I turned left, it followed. When I ran faster, the motorcycle picked up speed. When I tripped and fell to my knees, the rider stopped and waited until I got back up.

He was playing with me.

I kept running until my lungs burned and my legs began trembling from exhaustion. My feet were bleeding, and every step sent another wave of pain through them. Eventually, I stumbled over a rock and fell again, but this time, I couldn't force myself to stand. I stayed on my knees, struggling to breathe as the motorcycle approached until its headlight shone directly at me.

The motorcycle stopped a few feet away. The engine fell silent, but the headlight stayed on, shining so brightly that I had to raise my hand to shield my eyes.

I heard boots hitting the sand, and I didn't need to look up to know who had found me.

"Where were you going?" Reaper asked.

I couldn't answer him, even if I had wanted to. I was still struggling to catch my breath.

"The nearest road is twelve miles that way," he said. "You were running the wrong way. There's nothing out here but rattlesnakes and coyotes. No water, no people. And at night, it gets cold enough to kill you."

He crouched in front of me until our faces were level.

"The desert will kill you before I do, Raven."

"Then let it," I replied.

He studied me for a long moment before standing and returning to his motorcycle.

"Get on," he ordered.

"No," I said.

He didn't argue, grab me, or raise his voice. Instead, he leaned against his motorcycle, folded his arms across his chest, and waited.

At first, I was too angry to notice anything else, but the anger gradually faded as the cold became unbearable. It started in my bare feet before spreading through my legs and the rest of my body. My teeth began chattering, and my arms trembled so badly that I had to wrap them around myself. Eventually, I could barely feel my toes.

Reaper didn't move or say another word. He simply stood there watching me.

I managed to hold out for about twenty minutes, although it felt like hours.

When I finally forced myself to stand, my legs almost gave way beneath me. I limped toward the motorcycle without looking at him. Reaper removed his leather jacket and held it out. I wanted to throw it back in his face, but I was shaking too badly to refuse. Instead, I took it and pulled it on. The jacket was warm and smelled of smoke and leather, and I hated how relieved I felt wearing it.

I climbed onto the motorcycle behind him, and this time, I wrapped my arms around his waist without waiting to be told.

Before starting the engine, Reaper turned his head slightly so I could hear him.

"Run again," he warned, "and I'll stop being patient."