That’s the dramatic yet simple beginning my life should’ve had. Instead, I got pitched into the deep end of the pool with no warning and little preparation. My story, unlike that clear-cut summary, is far more complicated and far less informed. It’s also far more exciting and far more dangerous.
I struggled to my feet. The room dipped and swayed this way and that. When my vision came into focus, I saw her. And my heart stopped. It was Rainn. She was spread eagle on the work bench, her arms and legs tied down with thick, yellow rope. I could see the edges of white material peeking out from behind the man’s tie that held the gag in her mouth. Her head was anchored to the table by a piece of duct tape that went across her eyes. Her skin had an unusual pallor and was slick with sweat. Her chest heaved. She’d heard us; she knew she was no longer alone. And she was afraid. The air was so thick with it I could almost taste it.
In some detached part of my brain I marveled at how dramatically my life had changed in eight short days—from girl-next-door Realtor to demon-hunted savior of my family line.
Friday, a week ago.