Juliette found herself sprawled on top of Hunter, her momentary triumph at biting Derick's hand fading quickly. Derick had shoved her so forcefully that she fell onto Hunter, causing him formidable pain—enough that Derick didn't bother to attack further. Hunter's choking gasps filled her ears as she accidentally knocked the wind out of him, reopening several gashes along his back and causing them to bleed anew. Juliette seethed with frustration over her misstep. If there was ever a moment for her soccer training to shine off the field, this was it, but she hadn't anticipated becoming Derick's weapon. It was diabolically clever, infuriatingly so.
Damn him, with his insufferable smugness and arrogant demeanor. And his relentless, brutal violence. Given a chance, she would gladly rip his head from his shoulders, or shoot him point-blank, or better yet, slit his wrists and watch him bleed out before her eyes. Yes, that was the vision she savored.
Peeling herself off Hunter with his blood now sticking to her back, Juliette remained crouched. She was determined; she would shield him again if Derick even thought of laying another hand on him.
For once, however, Derick seemed uninterested in tormenting Hunter. Instead, he unlocked the chain around Juliette's ankle—a shackle she'd almost forgotten about. He looked intoxicated by the thrill of harassing Mrs. Rosewood and perhaps Nolan too. Juliette couldn't decipher that part of the call or why Nolan had answered Mrs. Rosewood's phone—but it hardly mattered now.
With a sneer of pure contempt, Derick tossed his phone idly in his hand. "I changed my mind. You can leave if you want."
"I don't," Juliette replied defiantly.
Derick chuckled darkly. "Shall we test that?"
Juliette's mouth went dry as he made no move to harm her but instead opened the trailer door wide to let sunlight flood in and nearly blind her. When she didn't move, he gestured grandly at the open door. "You're free to go."
She couldn't deny being tempted; the sun felt glorious on her face and hunger gnawed at her insides. Her entire body ached for relief. More than anything, she longed to be home with her family.
But "anything" didn't quite cover it because what trumped everything for Juliette was Hunter's survival. She knew deep down that leaving meant sealing his fate—a betrayal she couldn't commit.
"So are you," Juliette said sweetly through gritted teeth. "You can show yourself out."
Derick cackled cynically. "You've got some nerve; I'll give you that." He stepped toward the door. "Take your time deciding. You better be gone when I return."
Stunned, Juliette watched him leave the trailer door wide open behind him, staring outside for what felt like ages—wondering if it was all just a cruel illusion.
"Hunter," Juliette whispered, "Go."
"No way." Juliette crawled over to look him in the eye.
"I told you, if you had a chance to escape..."
"I never agreed to that," Juliette interrupted.
"Damn it, Juliette!" He almost shouted. "Stop trying to be a hero. Get out of here!"
Juliette was taken aback by his anger. She expected arguments, but not like this. "No."
"You're throwing your life away. Go! I won't forgive you if you stay."
"I'm not leaving."
Hunter shut his eyes and clenched his fists. "Screw you." He said it softly, almost to himself. Then louder, "Screw you, Juliette."
Juliette's cheeks flushed defensively. "Fine! Let's imagine that: I leave, find out where Derick's been hiding us. The moment I'm gone, you're dead because he won't risk me reaching the police."
"I don't care."
"But I DO!" Juliette shouted, pressing her fingers to her temples in an effort to calm down. "The problem is," her voice wavered with frustration. "If you die, I'm the one who has to live with it. How many times do I have to spell this out? I. Can't. Handle. That." She knew deep down she'd rather throw herself out his bedroom window than live with that guilt.
Her words carried such finality that she didn't think he'd argue anymore, but Hunter was unfazed by her in ways others weren't. He argued anyway, "Did you hear him? 'You better not be here when I'm back.' Do you know what that means?"
Juliette buried her fists in her hair, then ran her palms down her face to show her frustration as clearly as she could. "It means," she took a deep breath that did nothing to calm her down, "that Derick doesn't want me around for whatever he's planning next for you."
"No, it means if y—"
"Hunter!" Juliette snapped, "If you don't stop arguing with me right now, I will gag you with my sweatshirt."
That shut him up. "You won't."
Juliette shot him a pointed look and swiftly pulled out her sweatshirt. She stuffed the sleeve into his mouth and held it there with her palm to prove her point before letting it go. "I'm not joking. Please don't test me; I'd rather not have to do it because I enjoy talking to you."
Hunter raised an eyebrow, trying to wriggle his chained hands. "Are you seriously threatening me while I'm this sad and defenseless?"
"Only with the best intentions."
Hunter's mouth curved into a closed-lip smile. "Not very fair, is it?"
Juliette grinned, relieved he had conceded. "Yeah, well. Who needs integrity? I'm abandoning it completely."
"I hate you, you know that?" Hunter said bitterly, though there was a hint of fondness in his voice.
"No you don't."
"Seriously, I really do. Loathe your entire existence, actually." He was fighting a full smile now, betraying his words. Then he added, "Thank you. For caring."
Juliette wanted to tell him it was absurd to thank her for something as natural as breathing. Actually it felt more like catching her breath. It made her desperate until, without realization, it became unconscious and natural again. She couldn't find the words and instead focused intently on his face. Her eyes followed the line of his jaw and the curve of his lips. Confusingly, her pulse quickened. Suddenly she found herself wondering what his mouth would feel like on hers and how he would have kissed her if she'd let him. If he still wanted to.
She halted her thoughts there, thoroughly horrified. What was wrong with her? Was she so traumatized she was losing touch with her feelings? With reality? Even if there was a minuscule part of her that was curious about kissing him (which of course there wasn't), it certainly wasn't worth considering. She buried the shame as best she could, absolutely disgusted with herself.
Hunter was looking at her expectantly. He must have said something.
"What? Sorry," she said, flushing with fury.
"Are you okay?" he repeated. "You're staring at me."
"Oh, I'm fine." She wanted to bash herself over the head to pound out her mortification. "Scared, I guess."
Hunter nodded. "You don't need to be embarrassed about that. So am I."
He had noticed her blush and misunderstood it completely. His eyes filled with concern. "Juliette, your face."
Juliette touched her hand to her left cheek and winced at the tenderness where it would swell. "Don't worry about it."
"I wish you wouldn't do that."
She would take as many punches for him as needed to knock her unconscious. God, the way he looked at her could melt steel. Seriously, what was happening with her? Hunter started persuading her to leave him again, which distracted her from the turmoil within herself for now. Juliette brandished her sweatshirt once more. "I swear on my life, Hunter. I'm not joking."
"I know, just hear me out." His face was serious, the earlier anger having melted into sheer exhaustion. Juliette wrapped her jacket around her hand and placed it in her lap. Hunter visibly eased up. "I tried to pay attention when he started driving, and I'm pretty sure he took US-7 South. Actually, I know he did. We drove for quite some time; we must be in Connecticut."
"Two hours," Juliette interjected. "We drove for two hours straight. I sang 'Tiny Dancer' the entire time to track it." She was probably right; she did know every word of that song. "Twenty-one times through before I started humming."
Hunter beamed. "You did? That's genius!"
Juliette shot him a smug smile and shrugged. "I've often been called brilliant."
Hunter rolled his eyes at her playful arrogance. "I drove down to Yale last month. That took me about two hours. We could be somewhere near New Haven, or possibly by the Long Island Sound—places like Bridgeport or Norwalk."
Juliette straightened up and flung her sweatshirt aside completely. She wouldn't need it.
"So can you check for any street signs or landmarks? And if you run—don't give me that look," Juliette aimed her fiercest glare at him, "find a phone and call the police to tell them where I am, roughly."
It was a decent plan but hardly foolproof. They couldn't afford any mistakes. "I'm not sure about this."
"Come on, Juliette. Where's your bravery when I need it?"
"Gambling with your life isn't bravery; it's idiocy."
"Yet you're willing to gamble with yours," Hunter reminded her.
"Yeah, because it's my life."
"Just take a look."
Juliette gave in. "Alright, but only because I'm about to pee my pants." It wasn't an exaggeration; her bladder felt like it was going to burst. However long they'd been stuck there was definitely too long without a bathroom break.
"Oh," Hunter said awkwardly. "You haven't already?"
"No." Then after a beat, she asked, "Have you?"
"Three times," Hunter admitted with a nod. "Oh, and when you fell on me, I might've leaked a bit too."
Juliette snorted loudly. "Oh my god, that's gross."
"How haven't you? It's been like fifteen hours, are you okay?"
She shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm naturally very dehydrated."
"I'm seriously worried about you," Hunter said. "Go before he comes back."