Blood dripped from his hand, and his face twisted with rage.
“Ashley! You’ve got a death wish!”
With that, he kicked me hard in the chest, sending me sprawling onto the ground.
“Lock her up in the woodshed! Don't give her food and water!”
Several men grabbed me and dragged me toward the back of the house.
The shed was dark and cramped, piled high with clutter. A strong musty smell hung in the air.
They threw me inside and slammed the door shut.
Clack. The sound of the lock echoed in the silence.
I sat on the cold floor, pain still throbbing in my knees.
Ivan... I must’ve been blind.
Three years of love was all just part of a calculated trap.
I felt around in my pocket—my phone was gone. Of course. Ivan’s mother had taken it.
I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes and trying to conserve what little energy I had left.
Now that I thought about it, it all made sense.
Over the past few months, Ivan had started to involve himself more and more in my company. He said he wanted to “help relieve my stress.”
And like a fool, I had been touched by his thoughtfulness.
Time crawled by. My stomach growled in protest.
I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since yesterday.
Then I heard footsteps outside the door. They stopped right at the entrance.
“Ashley. Have you thought it through?”
“As long as you listen and do what we say, we’ll let you out.”
It was Ivan’s voice.
Biting my lip, I stayed silent.
“No answer? Fine, then keep rotting inside there.”
His footsteps faded into the distance.
Obviously, they had no intention of letting me go. If I wanted out, I’d have to save myself.
I searched the room, feeling along the cluttered corners of the shed until my fingers brushed against something sharp.
A broken piece of stone.
It sliced my fingers open more than once—tiny droplets of blood marked the floor but I didn’t care.
Using the stone shard, I pried at the frame of the small window on the wall. The wood was old and rotting.
With a crack, a part of the frame gave way.
The window was so narrow, I had to force my way through.
My body scraped against the frame—clothes tore in several places, and my skin split open, leaving bleeding scratches.
But the worst came when I landed.
I didn’t land properly—my ankle twisted hard on impact.
A sharp, searing pain shot through me, and I nearly screamed.
But I couldn’t stop now.
Limping, I gritted my teeth and dragged myself toward the edge of the village.