All of the blood drains from my face and I lose all train of thought except for what just came out of Trent’s mouth, but then my intuition kicks back in.

              “He’s not dead!” I blurt.

              “No. Something tells me he’s not either. I am sorry I even said it, but you have to understand what we are about to walk into here.”

I shiver, trying not to let his words frighten the life out of me.

“You need to stay as close to me as possible when we go in there.” He reaches across the console and grips my hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Come on, Clove. Come back to me and listen. Where is that smart mouthed girl from just a few hours ago?”

Trent places his hand under my trembling chin and raises it so my gaze meets his. God, I don’t want his hands on me anywhere after everything that he has done, and yet I know instinctively he is the only one who can get both Turner and me out of here alive.

I hate having to rely on him for anything at all. I know he knows this as he watches my changing expressions. He looks away for a few moments as if he is trying to collect his own thoughts and releases both my chin and my hand.

Even though the sky is turning gray with clouds, and even though the deep shadows of the woods surround us, I can still see his eyes glimmering with tears. I don’t feel sorry for him. He deserves every bit of pain he is in, and more.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“You really hate me that much, don’t you?” His words cut through the silence in the truck.

              “Do we really have to sit here and talk about this, Trent?”

              “No, I guess not. I deserve your hatred, Clove. This I know. A man can only hope, though. Right?”

He shrugs and starts up the truck. We are driving toward God knows what and a part of me screams with joy that I will see Turner soon. However, a bigger part of me is intimidated as all hell at the mere thought of what could happen to me before I get the chance.

After a short but very bumpy ride, we find ourselves parked outside of what has to be the most run-down house I have ever seen. The porch light is lit, chasing away the gloom and making every miserable inch of this place visible.

I gape at the front porch and the stairs that are missing several boards, which would cause an unwary person to fall right through. The white paint on the siding is chipped and peeling, several windows are broken, and the roof is covered in a thick layer of moss that appears to be growing up the side of the house.

I feel like I am staring at some haunted mansion. I am sure that once upon a time it was a beautiful little home, but this place is so bad now as to be unlivable. From what I can see of the yard, the grass has grown up so high it reaches over the top of the windowsills.

Oh, God. Did Trent grow up here like this? I envision a small boy running around here playing outside. Did he ever have anyone to play with? My heart breaks for the little boy who never deserved to have a life like this. And Turner. He’s been here for how long, now? Is there even running water in this place? Food? Obviously the electricity works, but good Lord almighty, how could anyone live this way? Tears spring to my eyes as I take it all in.

“The outside looks a lot worse than it does on the inside, Clove.”

I jerk my head around and face a somber looking Trent.

“Did you grow up here?” I sniff as I wipe away the tears from my face with the back of my hand.

              “No. I grew up in Jackson, actually. This place used to be halfway decent when I was younger. Dad and I used to come out here and hunt all the time. Some of the very few times my dad was sober would be when he hunted. For whatever fucked up reason, that man was serious about his hunting. Especially deer and pheasant. I fucking hated it. But it was the only time I ever got to spend time with my real dad, you know?” He looks at the house as if lost in his memories before finally turning back toward me. His face turns serious as he opens his truck door. “You ready?”

              I nod, still a little shaken.

“Stay close to me, Clove. And whatever you do, for the love of Christ, keep your mouth shut and only talk to him when he talks to you.”

Glaring at me, he steps out of the truck and shuts his door. I can’t move and I swallow the biggest lump in my throat as I try and force my unstable hands to reach for the door handle. Immediately Trent is right there opening the door for me, and places his hands on my shoulders as if he is trying to comfort me. Even though I hate having him touch me, at this moment in time he is the only comfort I have. He looks deeply into my eyes; searching for what, I have no idea.

“One more thing. I promise I will do anything I can to keep you safe, but if something happens to me, here is a spare key to the truck. You have got to promise me you will get the hell out of here and run, whether you have Turner with you or not. Promise me, Clove,” he commands, shaking my shoulders for emphasis.

“I- I don’t know if I can do that,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. He starts to shake my shoulders a little more vigorously.

              “You have to promise me, Clove! I will get back in this truck and tie you down and we will leave, and I mean it if you DO. NOT. PROMISE. ME.”

Jesus God Almighty, what the hell are we walking into?

              “I promise,” I say sullenly. One thing I know for certain; I will fight until my last breath before I walk out of here without my husband.

“Good girl.”

He releases his grip on my shoulders and grabs my hand as he helps me down. I grip tightly to his as he carefully leads me up the short, narrow path and the creaky stairs. As soon as we land on the top step, the door swings wide open and for the first time I come face to face with the man who created my husband.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my long lost son and the fucking princess herself,” he slurs slightly, wobbling.

James looks nothing like the man in the pictures I saw from years ago. His teeth are rotting, his face is pale, and oh God, his eyes. Even though they are bloodshot and halfway closed, they are the most terrifying pair of eyes I have ever seen. Eyes that say, ‘I know exactly what scares you, bitch, and it’s me.’ They bore into me with hostility and contempt. As skinny as he is you would think he would be easy to snap in half, but those eyes make you think twice about ever trying to fuck with him.

“I thought I told you to kill that fucking bitch, boy?” He straightens his posture as he glowers from me to Trent. “Does she have you fucking pussy whipped just like your fucking pussy ass brother? If so, maybe dear old dad should have a taste, too? Spread it around between the three of us before I fucking slice her into a million pieces.”

He rakes his eyes slowly up and down my body, allowing his gaze to linger on my chest. I cower closer to Trent and try and hide myself behind him as best as I can. I have never been so petrified in my life. And he can sense it as he stands there and laughs evilly.

              “Bitch, he ain’t gonna save you from me.”

He lifts a bottle that I never saw in his hands to his dirty mouth and takes a heavy swig. I feel Trent’s body tense as I stand behind him. Is he just going to stand here and not say a damn word? I want in this house and I want to see Turner more than I have ever wanted anything in my entire life. I nudge him in his back slightly, trying to give him a hint. Finally he speaks.