Instead, it was like the pickaxe was caught in a vice. I could not yank it free.
I ditched the pickaxe, looking for anything else to use, but in my frenzy, I stumbled and ended up on the floor.
The footsteps behind me were getting louder.
A cold sweat drenched my back as I curled up, cornered and powerless. The pitch–black cellar had me spouting anything that came to mind, a last–ditch plea.
“Please, mister, have mercy! I can pay you–ten, twenty thousand dollars. Just let me go, and I’ll owe you big time, even in my next life!”
“You’ve been slaving away for twenty years already, isn’t that enough? You want to keep it up in your next life too?
11
That deep, familiar voice snapped me back to reality.
1/2
“Anthony? Is it really you?”
His strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a protective hug, and I rested against his solid chest, wondering if I was dreaming.
“It is you! How on earth did you find me here?”
Anthony’s heart was racing, a wild rhythm I had never felt in him before. It was pure panic.
He gasped and replied, “You have no idea. You nearly gave me a heart attack. David said you went home to pay your family some money, and I had to take off work to come after you.
“You were gone in the blink of an eye. I asked your parents, and they said you’d left, but there was no sign of you at the station or in Lascora. I was afraid someone had kidnapped you!”
Tears trickled down my cheeks as I whispered, “I was kidnapped, alright. By my own sister.”
Anthony shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around me, holding me close.
“I’ve been all over your place, and the cellar was my last stop. If you weren’t here, I don’t know what I’d do.”
Bathed in moonlight, Anthony’s profile was striking. I could not resist giving him a quick kiss.
“Thank you.”
His cheeks flushed, and he was suddenly at a loss for words, stuttering as he moved.
He hauled me out of the cellar and booted open the door to my parents‘ house as he yelled, “Mom and Dad, this is the last time I’ll call you that! Yasmine is part of the Brown family now. She’s done with the Shaws!”
My parents were petrified as Anthony slammed the kitchen knife down on the edge of the bed, inches from my dad’s pillow, silencing them.
In the doorway, Holly stood with a sleazy–looking guy, taking in the scene.
“You! How could you…”
11
Anthony was a soldier. Just a glimmer of his old ferocity was enough to send Holly stumbling back.
Anthony’s fist flew in a wide arc, sending the thug sprawling beside Holly. “Scram!”
The man beat a hasty and humiliating retreat, leaving Holly alone. Anthony towered over her, his voice a low growl.
“Try to mess with my wife again, and I’ll chop off your legs with that kitchen knife. Believe it.”
Holly crumpled to the ground.
I did not spare her another look as I walked away with Anthony. I had said my piece and did what was right. The
rest was in the hands of fate.
