Another pop song blared on the radio—Hugo Modes, warbling in a falsetto… The sound grated, the banality of the music such a sharp contrast to her rising fear. The band crooned on, and she could hardly think straight.
But maybe a sense of normalcy could save her right now. Maybe if she got Kester to see her as a person instead of just his victim, he’d empathize with her. Wasn’t that what they told the parents of children who’d been kidnapped? Show the human side, tug on the heart strings.
She had the strangest feeling that Kester didn’t have a human side, but it was worth a shot. She’d only just turned eighteen, and she wasn’t ready to die before she’d had the chance to do anything with her life. She took a steadying breath. “Hugo Modes. What’s his band called? The Four Points?” She nodded at the radio, trying to keep her voice steady. “I suppose you like boy bands.”
“I wouldn’t call them a boy band,” he snapped. “They play their own instruments.”
She tightened her fists so hard her nails pierced her flesh. This isn’t going to work. I can’t make small talk about boy bands when I’m about to be murdered. She seethed with hot anger. She didn’t give a shit about the Four Points. What she cared about was that she’d been kidnapped against her will, and she wanted to smash Kester’s stupid rich-boy face into the pavement. So maybe her life was pathetic, but she wasn’t ready to give up on it. “What the fuck am I doing here?” she shouted in desperation.
Kester let out a low whistle. “You’re not really a people person, are you?”
“I’m handcuffed to the door of a car,” she snapped. “Don’t expect me to be cheerful about it. You broke into my house in the middle of my dinner, attacked me, and abducted me.” She gave the manacle one last tug, but it wouldn’t budge.
“That was seriously your birthday dinner? Eating bread and butter in a hovel?” He arched a sympathetic eyebrow. “That’s just sad. Frankly, I’m doing you a favor. Assuming you survive.”
She clenched her jaw, trying to calm herself, and turned to look out the window. Don’t lose your head, Ursula.
The landscape flew by—a blur of grey branches and patches of snow. Her breath frosted against the window.
A part of her was terrified, but another part knew she’d make it out of this. Her will to survive was too strong. Less than three years had passed since the firefighters had discovered her in the church. That meant she had less than three years of memories—and the most vivid in her mind right now was Rufus, telling her she would never make anything of her life. She couldn’t die before she proved him wrong.
Chapter 5
After turning off the M4, they barreled down an empty one-lane road lined with hedgerows. At last, the car slowed, and they turned into a small driveway. A gate stood before them, flanked by stone columns. To the right, tufts of frozen vegetation dotted brown fields stretching out into the darkness.
Isolated, secluded, and alone with a complete nutter. Former Ursula—or F.U., as Ursula was now thinking of her prior self—had a lot to answer for.
She glanced out the driver’s window at a small hill with a flattened top. Bare trees protruded from it, like skeletal hands clawing out of graves. She stiffened. The look of this place turned her blood to ice.
Kester turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car, walking around to the back. Ursula watched him, her pulse racing as he rummaged through the boot. Panic rising, she yanked on the manacle, but her hand remained stuck. He’s going to pull out a gun and blow my head off.
After yanking out a dark grey jacket, he crossed toward Ursula’s door, pulling it open. A blast of icy air flooded the cabin, and Ursula’s mouth went dry as she looked up at him. She swallowed hard, not yet willing to move. Whatever the trial was, her best chance of survival was probably to get the hell out of here.
He held out his hand. “I’ll need your phone.”
Still manacled, she jammed her free hand into her back pocket and pulled out her phone with a shaking hand. She passed it to him, watching as he slipped it into his coat. Dread welled in her chest. He was enormous and strong, and she didn’t think she could outrun him. She’d have to fight him, though her chances weren’t good there, either.
“Wear this.” Kester handed Ursula the jacket, then leaned over her, unlocking the handcuff with a gold key. “Don’t try anything stupid. You won’t outrun me.”
Christ. Can he read my thoughts? Stepping out of the car, she slipped into the grey parka, welcoming its warmth. If she was going to fight him in remote fields, she didn’t need the added disadvantage of hypothermia. She pulled up the hood, eyeing him cautiously. You didn’t give a jacket to someone you wanted to murder, did you? Then again, he was obviously stark raving mad.