It felt like a thousand horses were trying to drag Addis’s heart from her chest as she and Emerson did their utmost to ignore the idea that other living creatures of the many-legged variety were crawling around them as they lay flat in the dirt and rocks beneath the house, shivering as much from fear as the bone-chilling drop in temperature.

Earlier, after forcing her sluggish brain to rise above the dregs of another drug-induced slumber in which fang-clad demons were ripping into the flesh of her neck, she used her shoulder to juggle Emerson’s head up and down until she finally woke.

Without knowing if they were alone or if their kidnapper was outside the crawl space, Addis breathed into Em’s ear, ‘We need to get these ropes off and get out of here.’

‘What if he’s out there?’

Addis chose her next words carefully. ‘If he’s out there, well, I prefer to go out fighting – even if I know I’m going to lose.’ She ignored the tears stinging her eyes when her mind immediately conjured up a glowing Aunt Grace, fist pumping in the air, cheering her on. ‘That’s my girl.’

Emerson replied by sucking in great gulping breaths of air. ‘Me, too.’

It had taken a few hours longer than forever, but the second Addis felt slack in the rope, she’d slipped her wrists through. The relief of being free was instantly replaced by a stinging sensation as the blood rushed back into her fingers. She took only a second to cradle and rub her wrists before turning to help Em.

Heart pounding, ears ringing, and listening to the whispered chants of ‘Hurry, hurry, hurry,’ she’d tugged and yanked and cut until Emerson’s hands were also free.

Then it was no longer the ropes holding them captive; it was the uncertainty of what they’d find once they left the confines of their enclosure. Addis ignored the scrapes of splintered wood against her skin and pressed her left ear against the door, frustrated she couldn’t tell if the noise she heard came from their captor in the living room or her hammering heart. Her palm skated across the wood in search of a handle or something. Her veins filled with icicles, and she knew she was stalling. For all her brave words of wanting to go down fighting, she knew she wasn’t some heroine in an action-packed thriller.

Knowing she couldn’t put it off any longer – they hadn’t come this far just to come this far – she drank in a lungful of air and said, ‘I’ll go first.’

Em’s hand spider-crawled down her arm until she could link their fingers together, squeezing tight enough that Addis cringed. ‘No, we go together. On the count of three. One. Two. Three.’ Her voice pitched an octave higher on the last word.