Page 104 of Code Name: Scorpio

Darkness was her only real ally, but it was fading fast. A sliver of moon barely cleared the tree line, leaving everything past the gravel driveway dissolved into gray, formless shadows. If she could slip into the timber before dawn broke in a few hours, maybe she stood a chance.

Survival meant playing along until she could find her moment. She had to bolt while the shadows still offered cover.

Now he grabbed her arm and forced her inside. He hit a switch by the door that turned on a single lamp in the corner of the room. He didn’t turn on anything else—like he was doing some sort of sick mood lighting.

The living room looked exactly the way it had the last time she’d seen it. The couch and the armchairs sat where they always had. Somebody’s beer bottle stood half full on the coffee table.

Shoving her forward, he took his time shrugging out of his jacket. His eyes traced her form, mirroring that first night in the kitchen when his hands had mapped every inch of her skin to search for wires or weapons or whatever else he thought he might find.

“Sutton was soft with you.” He folded the jacket over the back of the chair. “Every night, I watched him touch you like you’d break. Arlo got all caught up in your being his pet.”

Her focus locked on a deep gouge in the pine flooring near the couch leg, a familiar blemish she had memorized over the past week.

“But being nice is not how you train something.” He moved closer. “I know how to train. I’m going to show you the difference.”

Don’t look at him. Don’t look at the door. Not yet.

It was Ryder’s voice in her head. Listening to him was easier. He knew what to do. He would keep her alive.

She trusted him.

Heath stopped in front of her, close enough that she could see the scuffs on the toes of his boots.

“Kneel.”

She didn’t want to. This was different than it had been with Ryder. She’d known he would protect her. This man’s sole purpose was to hurt her.

It’s okay, Cassie. You can do this. You’re biding your time.

Dropping to the floor in almost slow motion, she sank onto the pine boards with her bound wrists resting heavy in her lap. She allowed her shoulders to shake, a tremor she barely had to fake, while he loomed directly above her to drink in the display.

“Good girl. See? You’re already learning.” She heard him reach for his belt, then unzip his pants. Oh God. “Let’s see what you can do with that pretty mouth while you’re down there.”

He bent toward her. His hand came down toward her hair.

Now, Cassie!

She exploded upward from the floor, launching her tied fists straight out of her lap. The strike carried the full momentum of her legs, her back, and all the raw panic she had forced down from the moment he’d grabbed her and gotten her into his truck. On the upward arc, her knuckles slammed squarely into the bridge of his nose.

His nose shattered on impact, sending a sickening crunch vibrating right through her knuckles and into her jaw.

Heath let out a strangled, animal shriek. Clutching his bloody face, his boots tangled in his half-dropped pants as he stumbled backward into the low coffee table, flipping completely over it and hitting the floorboards with a heavy thud.

She didn’t wait to see how long it would take for him to get up.

She ran.

She tore down the hallway, past the kitchen. The back door was at the end of it, and she hit it with her shoulder before she remembered it had a knob.

Doors had knobs. She’d known that her entire adult damned life. “Pull it together, or you’re going to die, Cass.”

Her bound fingers fumbled blindly, slipping across the smooth metal. A desperate sob escaped her throat. On the third twist, the latch finally gave way, pitching her forward onto the cold steps outside.

Frigid air hit her face as the darkness swallowed the yard. She scrambled blindly, unable to see the dirt beneath her shoes, fixing her sights entirely on the jagged line of pines silhouetted against the dim moonlight.

Reaching the main road was her only shot. If she could flag down a passing semi or an early-morning local, she would be safe. Anyone on earth would do, so long as it wasn’t Heath Diehl.

Low brush tore at her forearms. A sharp branch sliced her cheek open, leaving a hot line of stinging pain that immediately began to bleed. She tripped blindly over a hidden root, recovering her balance by sheer instinct.