Page 33 of Bound By Blood and Lies

Eventually Fisher’s body stops fighting. The violent jerks against the chain fade into smaller, weaker movements until even those disappear, and the blood pouring from the wounds begins to slow as it spreads across his shirt. The knife remains buried in his chest as the handle trembles slightly in Robyn’s grip and her shoulders rise and fall in ragged, uncontrollable breaths.

We can’t stay here.

Fisher is dead. We did it. But killing him was never the end, it was only the first step toward getting out alive. I reach forward slowly, careful not to startle Robyn, and wrap my hand around her wrist.

“Robyn…”

She doesn’t move.

“Robyn,” I repeat softly as her grip loosens and I gently pull the knife free before guiding her back to her feet. “We have to go.”

She nods wordlessly. I step back before gathering our wooden planks and quickly wiping the knife. Her hands are slick with blood as she stands frozen. I try not to step in it as I march over to her, placing my hands on her face and pulling her to look at me.

“Listen to me, angel, not now. You hear me? You break down later. Right now we need to focus and leave.”

Robyn’s body goes rigid under my hands as the glazed look disappears. She takes in a deep breath before letting it go.

“Okay,” she whispers hoarsely before clearing her throat. “Let’s go.”

I press the knife back into Robyn’s hand and give her the wooden slat as well, making sure her fingers actually close around them before I turn away. If someone comes through that door, she needs something between her and them. I arm myself with the keys and my own slat, forcing my shaking hands to steady as we move toward the door.

Every step feels too loud.

I pause beside the handle and listen, holding my breath so hard my lungs burn. The warehouse hums around us, metal creaks faintly as the wind rattles against the structure. But there are no footsteps. No voices. No guards rushing to investigate the noise Fisher and Robyn made.

The keys slide slightly in my fingers as I try to fit one into the lock and I swear under my breath before cursing myself for not drying my hands properly. They’re slick with sweat and blood and it takes two attempts before the right key finally catches. My heart is pounding so violently I can feel it in my throat as I turn the metal slowly, trying not to make a sound.

The lock clicks.

I draw in a breath and ease the door open just enough to slip my head through. Briefly, my bearings feel completely wrong. The hallway beyond looks almost identical to the one I have seen before. It’s so familiar that it takes a moment for the realisation to land. Then it hits me. I have been here before. This is where I found the little girl’s underwear. My stomach twists at the memory as bile rises in the back of my throat. Why bring herhere? Out of all the places he could have hidden her, why move her to the one place I’d already been?

Unless he knew.

We never came back to check this place again after that night. We assumed it had been cleared out. Assumed whatever happened here was finished. It’s almost like they expected that, planned it. But the realisation brings something else with it too.

An advantage.

I know this layout; I know exactly which direction leads outside. I crack my neck before stepping into the hallway. The concrete floor feels colder beneath my feet as every sound suddenly sounds amplified in the empty corridor. I glance back over my shoulder and nod once for Robyn to follow.

We move quickly after that, our feet almost silent against the concrete as we take fast but careful steps, resisting the instinct to run. Running makes too much noise, and too much noise gets you killed. For the first time since this nightmare began, I allow myself to believe we might actually make it out of here alive. We move with controlled urgency, slipping down the corridor one stretch at a time whilst I check every corner before committing to the next. Each pause feels endless as I listen for footsteps, for voices, for any sign that someone has heard the chaos we left behind.

The hallway gives us nothing.

No guards. No movement. Just the dull hum of the strip lights above us and the echo of my own pulse hammering in my ears. The pain that was burning through my body earlier has vanished, drowned out beneath the surge of adrenaline flooding my veins. When we reach the final corridor, my heart catches. The door Roman and I once came through stands at the end of it, exactly where I remember, solid and unremarkable like it hasn’t been sitting between us and freedom this entire time.

Freedom is inches away.

I slow as we reach the door, my hand lifts to stop Robyn as I scan the corridor one last time. My head turns left, then right like a meerkat breaking the surface of a burrow, searching for danger that might still be hiding in the silence. The hallway remains empty and for the first time since the lock clicked behind us weeks ago, something dangerously close to relief spreads through my chest.

We did it.

I glance back over my shoulder and Robyn is right there; her footsteps falling carefully behind mine. Her hands are still wrapped around the knife and the wooden slat I gave her, but the way she looks at me now is different. The storm that consumed her minutes ago has settled into something fragile and stunned. My hand reaches for the door as a rush of emotion floods my chest so suddenly it steals the air from my lungs. I picture Roman’s face when he sees us. The disbelief. The fury. The way his arms will close around me like he’ll never let go again. I picture sunlight. Fresh air. The sound of a world that doesn’t smell like rust and blood and fear.

I picture home.

My fingers curl around the handle and Robyn’s hand touches the door beside mine; the two of us standing there for one brief, impossible moment where freedom is no longer a fantasy. The cold metal sits beneath the palm of my hand. After everything, it’s finally here…

Freedom.