Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
But I need to get her out of here before I do that. She’ll panic if she sees what’s down here.
The rope ladder concerns me, though. She’s too weak to climb on her own but I’m not sure it will hold both of us.
First, I untie the rope at her wrists, rub them, eyeing the bruised, raw flesh, the marks on her through the ripped tatters of her clothes.
Her hands move to the hood, but I capture her wrists.
“Let me get you out of here first,” I say.
“I want it off.”
“Trust me, Gabriela.”
She hesitates, then nods. “Okay,” comes her small, trembling voice.
“We’re going to climb up,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice calm. I have to carry her up. I have no choice.
When I pull away, she cries out. “Don’t leave me!”
“Shh. It’s all right. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Stefan,” Rafa’s voice calls down when he realizes what I’m going to do. “The rope isn’t strong enough.”
“It has to be,” I say. I turn to Gabriela who can’t see me. “Wrap your legs around me,” I tell her, lifting her up.
She barely manages and I wonder if they’ve given her food or water in the last few days.
“Good. Now hold on tight and don’t let go no matter what,” I say, folding her arms around my neck and holding her to me with one arm wrapped around her.
I keep her like this for a moment before beginning the careful climb up. My progress is slow and the rope strains beneath our combined weight. When I’m about two-thirds of the way up, it tears beneath my foot and Gabriela screams, clinging so tight she’s almost choking me.
I stop moving. Hug her tight to me.
“It’s okay. We’re okay.”
I look down. I look up.
“A little farther and I can take her,” Rafa calls to me.
I move again, carefully but as quickly as I can, hearing the tattered rope strain with every move, and just as Rafa takes hold of Gabriela, the rung I’ve got my feet on rips away, the ladder dropping to the well floor, leaving me dangling.
She screams again, but Rafa hauls her up and I shift my grip to the edge of the well and hoist myself up and over.
I go to her, ignoring the burn of the rope on the palms of my hands. I take hold of her shoulders, pull her to me once more before taking the hood off. Relief floods through me at seeing her bruised, tear-stained face again.
She blinks, squints. It was black where she was, and the sunshine is bright.
I move her into the shade of the house. After a few moments, her eyes adjust and when they focus and she sees me, she breaks down into a sob and clings to me and I think how scared she must have been. How terrified.
And I know I’m going to kill these men. I’m going to kill them slowly.
“I want the men lined up outside. On their knees,” I tell Rafa, cupping the back of her head, keeping her close.
“On it.”
Without a word, I lift Gabriela in my arms and carry her out. One of our men opens the back door of the first SUV and I set her inside it.
“I need water,” I tell him.
He nods, goes to the trunk and returns with a bottle. I take it from him, open it. I haven’t taken my eyes off her once as I brush matted, dirty hair back from her face. I hold the bottle to her lips, and she takes a sip.
“Make sure none of those tourists get close,” I tell the soldier. “Station men on either side of the street.”
“Yes, sir.”
I pet the tangle of her hair, look at the dark spot on her temple. Notice the old one on her forehead and remember the damage to Rafa’s car.
But that’s a question for another time.
With my thumb, I wipe away a tear. I rub her skull, feeling for bumps, but I don’t find any. I note each bruise on her neck.
Where her top is ripped, I see the bruise on her side, and another near her belly button. I can make out the print of a shoe and rage boils inside me.
I touch each mark softly, making a mental note, shifting my gaze to her thighs, to the marks there, and down to her feet. She’s wearing one running shoe. The other foot is bare.
I meet her gaze again, tilt her face to mine. “Did they touch you?” I force myself to ask and I can see the effort it takes for her to shake her head.
Her gaze widens when it moves over my shoulder and I know the men are ready.
She pulls me to her when I draw back.
“I want to go. I want to get away from here,” she manages.