Never Die Alone

Hallelujah!

Shaking her hands free, she wondered—should she try to unbind her ankles? Crap! She had to. It was necessary if she wanted to walk out of here on her own. Adrenaline firing her blood, she bent over a little more, the fetal position a cover as she studied the cord on her ankles with her fingertips, finding the knots.

And still he sang, though he kept checking the clock as if it were important. What did it matter what time . . . oh, God. Suddenly she understood; he was going to do something to them at the exact time of their births. That had to be it. The clock displayed prominently. The song. Both of them here . . .

And there wasn’t much time left.

She’d been born at 1:21 a.m. Chloe had come along seventeen minutes later at 1:38.

Oh, God. Another look at the clock.

1:14.

If she was right, she only had seven more minutes to make a move! Frantically, she tore at the loosening knot. It began to unravel.

Come on, come on!

Viperlike, the braided cord slid from her ankles. Finally! Zoe held fast to one frayed end and pulled, wincing as the rope slid round her neck and fell away. She gripped the rope. Now she had a weapon.

“. . . birthday, dear Zoe,” he sang, striking fear into her heart as he singled her out. Of course. She was the firstborn. “Happy birthday to—”

She sprang!

He started to turn just as she landed on his back.

“Hey!” he yelled, startled. He dropped the scissors, then bellowed, “What the fu—”

He shifted, trying to throw her off, but she held on with a steely desperation and wrapped the rope around his neck. Roaring, grunting, jumping like a bucking bronco in a rodeo, he tried to fling her from his back. But she held on tight, anchoring the cord over her fingers and winding it around his thick neck. To anchor herself in place, she had to clench her legs around his gross, naked waist. The stench of him reached her nostrils as he tried to free himself, whipping his head back and forth.

The rope burned her hands but cut deep into his flesh. Clenching her jaw, she twisted it tighter, imagining a crushing force on his windpipe. He dug frantically at it with his fingers.

Chloe’s mewling turned to terrified screams.

Die, freak! Zoe thought as he twisted and turned, gasping, falling against the workbench, sending his scissors and ribbons, wire, and a stack of clothes—her damned clothes, the dress she’d been wearing when he’d abducted her—flying and scattering onto the floor. One of his arms flailed, hitting the domed light. It fell from the ceiling, skittering across the floor and cracking, giving off a sick bluish hue. Still he bucked. Jumping up and down, he clawed at the rope with one hand. The other big paw flailed backward, his fist swishing the air over his head in a wild attempt to co

No way! No frickin’ way!

She threw her weight backward, pulling with all her strength, trying to cut off his air supply or sever his windpipe or break his damned neck.

Letting out a garbled growl, he stamped his powerful legs, then threw them both back against the wall, squeezing her body between his muscular back and the rough cement.

Bam!

Pain jolted down her spine.

Her teeth rattled.

The breath was forced from her lungs in a whoosh and a groan.

She felt her grip begin to slip.

No!

She held on as he pounded her, taking a step forward, then throwing all his weight backward once more as he clawed at the rope and gasped.

“Die, bastard!” she hissed.

“Zoe?” Chloe cried.

Crack! The back of her head slammed against the wall.

Pain exploded through her skull. Lights flashed behind her eyes. She thought she might pass out and the rope began to slip in her hands.

For the love of God, just die!

As Chloe cried out again, Zoe snapped back to awareness and yanked hard on the rope. She wound it tighter until her shoulder muscles screamed and the nylon cut into her fingers.

The beast responded by clawing at the rope. Sputtering and moaning, he staggered away from the wall, a little less steady this time.

She braced herself, pulled back so hard that her arm muscles ached.

His muscles bunched. With a muffled roar, he threw himself backward again. She banged against the wall and he pi

She felt the rope slipping. No, no, no!

Desperately she clung on. Tried to breathe.

“Zoe!” Chloe screamed from the shadows in the corner. “Help me!”

Oh, Jesus, what do you think I’m trying to do?

Zoe’s fingers were cramped and bleeding. She dragged in a breath, determined to hold on.

The monster’s back slackened. He stumbled slightly and then caught his balance as he gasped and sputtered. He was strong, but his knees were giving out.

Good! Gritting her teeth, she wound the rope around her fingers and yanked even tighter. Both his hands were on the noose, scraping and pulling. He rocked to and fro, his legs wobbling.

That’s it, you sick whack job. Die! Take your last damned breath.

Wobbling, he sank to his knees.

Still, she clung to the rope as his throat rattled, a hiss of air still escaping. Damn it! With all her strength, she wrenched the cord so hard she was certain the bones in her hands would break. She didn’t care. “Chloe!” she yelled. “Get yourself free.”

More wailing.

Sometimes her twin was such a wimp!

“Pull yourself together! The scissors. Cut yourself free! Come on, Chloe! Do it! Do it now!” She was barking orders as the big man teetered on his knees. “Die, you son of a bitch,” she growled into his ear as gravity dragged him to the ground. “Just frickin’ die!”

As he slumped to the floor, pi

With difficulty, she unwrapped the cord from one hand, then in the gloom, gripped both ends with the other. Slapping and sweeping the floor with her free arm, she frantically searched for a weapon.

When he moaned, she tugged the rope again, but her strength was nearly zapped. Chloe was still whimpering in a far corner. Shit! As usual, Zoe had to do everything. Scrabbling wildly with her free hand, she hit something sharp. Metal. The scissors!

She slid backward and kicked at the beast of a man with her free foot to roll him off her leg. Finally, she let go of the cord around his neck. Then she curled her bloody fingers through the eye ring of the scissors, turned, and with all her might, stabbed him in the throat. The blades went deep into the soft tissue, right into the welt created by the cord.

Chloe screamed.

Zoe wasn’t finished. With an effort she pulled at the eye rings of the scissors and forced the blades open, trying to slice whatever tissue she could. Then, she slammed the scissors shut again.

The beast roared over a sickening slurp of blood and muscle and tendon. Zoe hoped to high heaven that she’d severed something important—the carotid, his jugular, his spine. The ensuing sucking sound curdled her blood, but she couldn’t think about it. She only hoped the bastard bled out quickly, for both their sakes.

Zoe crawled across the floor toward the sound of her sister and found Chloe naked, bound, and trembling against a wall. Her eyes were wide, her breathing shallow and rapid.

“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God,” Chloe babbled, quivering and pale. “You killed him.”

“I hope so.”

Chloe started crying.

“Pull yourself together!” Zoe ordered and started cutting her sister’s hands free with the scissors. Her fingers cramped and she, too, was shaking, but she forced the bloody blades open and closed, then sawed with them as Chloe stared in horror. “Come on, come on,” Zoe ordered herself, and shot a glance at the motionless blob that was their abductor. The cords were tough, and part of her longed to crumple into a pile like her sister, but adrenaline and fear spurred her on.