Chapter 10

A strange sensation wakes me up the next morning. It feels almost like—

"Oh shit!"

I jump up, trying to shake off the long-legged spider that's leisurely strolling up my arm.

The spider flies off, and I frantically brush at my face, hair, and body, trying to get rid of any other potential creepy-crawlies.

Okay, so I'm not exactly afraid of spiders, but I really, really don't like them on me.

This is definitely not the most pleasant way to wake up.

My heart rate gradually returns to normal, and I take stock of my situation. I'm thirsty, and my entire body aches from sleeping on the hard ground. I also feel grimy, and my feet hurt. Lifting up one leg, I peer at the sole of the foot. I'm pretty sure there's dried blood on there.

My stomach is rumbling with hunger. I didn't have dinner last night, and I'm absolutely starving.

On the plus side, Sorn hasn't found me yet.

I'm not really sure what I'm going to do next. Perhaps make my way back to the house and try to ambush Sorn there again?

I think about it and decide it's probably the best course of action at this point. Sooner or later, Sorn or Lisa will find me. The island is not that big, and I would not be able to hide from them for long. And I can't risk procrastinating, in case Lisa returns sooner than expected. Two against one are terrible odds.

I'm also getting hungrier by the minute, and I tend to get light-headed if I don't eat regularly. I could probably find fresh water to drink, but food is more iffy. I don't know where Sorn gets those mangos from. If I try to hide for another couple of days, I might be too weak to attack anyone, much less a woman who could be a freaking warrior princess.

Besides, she might not be expecting me quite yet, and I could really use an element of surprise.

So I take a deep breath and start walking—or rather, limping—back toward the house. I know this might not end well for me, but I have no choice. I either fight now, or I will forever be a victim.

It takes me about two hours to get back. I end up having to stop and take breaks when I can no longer tolerate the agony in my feet.

It's kind of ironic that I escaped because I'm afraid of pain, and I ended up hurting myself so badly in the process. Lisa would probably love to see me like this. That perverted bastard.

Finally, I reach the house and crouch behind some large bushes near the front door. I don't know if it's locked or not, but I don't think I can just stroll in through the main entrance. For all I know, Sorn is right there in the living room.

No, I need to be more strategic about it.

After a few minutes, I carefully make my way to the back of the house, toward the large screened porch where I had attacked Sorn yesterday.

To my relief, no one is there.

Taking care not to make a sound, I open the screen door and slip inside. In my hand I'm holding a large rock. I would much rather have a knife or a gun, but a rock will have to do for now.

Crab-walking to one of the windows, I glance inside and am gratified to find the living room empty.

Straightening, I walk up to the glass door that leads to the living room, quietly slide it open, and step inside.

The house is completely silent. There's no one cooking in the kitchen or setting the table.

The digital clock in the living room reads 7:12. I'm hoping that Sorn is still asleep.

Still clutching the rock, I sneak into the kitchen and find another knife. Holding both, I carefully head upstairs.

Sorn's bedroom is the first one on the left. I know because she showed it to me during the house tour.

Holding my breath, I quietly push open the door . . . and freeze.

Sitting there on the bed is the person I fear most.

Lisa.

She's back early.

"Hello, Jennie."

Her voice is deceptively soft, her perfect face expressionless. Yet I can feel the rage burning quietly underneath.

For a second, I just stare at her, paralyzed by terror. I can't hear anything but the roaring of my own heartbeat in my ears. And then I start to back away, still keeping my eyes trained on her face. My hands are raised defensively in front of me, rock and knife clutched tightly in each.

At that moment, steely hands grip my arms from behind, painfully squeezing my wrists. I scream, struggling, but Sorn is too strong. The knife twists backward in my hand, nearly reaching my shoulder.

In a flash, Lisa is on me, and both the knife and the rock are wrenched out of my hands. Sorn releases me and Lisa grabs me, holding me tightly as I scream and writhe hysterically in her arms.

The harder I fight, the tighter her arms become around me, until I go limp, almost fainting from lack of air.

Then she picks me up and carries me out of Sorn's room.

To my surprise, she brings me downstairs and stops in front of the door that leads to her office. A tiny panel opens on the side, and I can see a red light moving over Lisa's face, like a laser at a supermarket checkout.

Then the door slides open.

I stifle a gasp of surprise. Her office door opens via a retina scan—something I've only seen before in spy movies.

As she carries me inside, I try to struggle again, but it's futile. Her arms are completely immovable, holding me securely in her grip.

I'm once again helpless in her embrace.

Tears of bitter frustration slide down my face. I hate being so weak, so easily handled. She's not even winded from our struggle.

I'm not sure what I'm expecting her to do. Perhaps beat me, or brutally take me.

But she simply places me on my feet when we're inside her office.

As soon as she releases me, I take a few steps back, needing to put at least some distance between us.

She smiles at me, and there's something disturbing in the beauty of that smile. "Relax, my pet. I won't hurt you. Not now, at least."

And as I watch, she walks over to a large desk and slides open the drawer, taking out a remote control. Then she points it at a wall behind me.

I turn around warily and stare at two large flat-panel TV screens. They look very high-tech, not at all like the ones I'm used to seeing at home.

The left screen lights up. The image is strange because it's so unexpected.

It looks like a regular bedroom in someone's house. The bed is unmade, sheets bunched up carelessly on the mattress. Posters of various football players line the walls, and there is a laptop sitting on the desk.

"Do you recognize it?" Lisa asks.

I shake my head.

"Good," she says. "I'm glad about that."

"Whose bedroom is it?" I ask, a sick feeling appearing in my stomach.

"Can't you guess?"

I stare at her, feeling colder by the minute. "Hanbin's?"

"Yes, Jennie. Hanbin's."

I begin to shake inside. "Why is it on your TV?"

"Do you remember when I told you that Hanbin is safe as long as you behave?"

I stop breathing for a second. "Yes . . ." My whisper is barely audible.

Truthfully, I had forgotten about her initial threat to Hanbin, too consumed with the experience of my own captivity. I don't think I took the threat seriously to begin with, certainly not after I learned we were on an island thousands of miles away from my hometown. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had been convinced Lisa can't really harm Hanbin. Not from a distance, at least.

"Good," Lisa says. "Then you'll understand why I'm doing this. I don't want to keep you locked up, unable to go anywhere or do anything. This island is your new home, and I want you to be happy here—"

Happy here? I'm more than ever convinced that she's crazy.

"—but I can't have you trying to hurt Sorn in pointless escape attempts. You need to learn that there are consequences to your actions—"

The sick feeling inside me spreads throughout my body. "I'm sorry! I won't do it anymore! I won't, I promise!" My words are hurried and jumbled. I don't know if I can prevent what's about to happen, but I have to try. "I won't hurt Sorn, and I won't try to escape. Please, Lisa, I learned my lesson . . ."

Lisa looks at me almost sadly. "No, Jennie. You haven't. I had to come back today, cutting short my business trip because of what you did. Sorn is not here to be your jailer. That's not her role. She's here to take care of you, to make sure you're comfortable and content. I can't have you repaying her kindness by trying to kill her—"

"I wasn't trying to kill her! I just wanted . . ." I stop, not wanting to reveal my plan to her.

"You thought you could take her hostage?" Lisa looks amused now. "To do what? Get her to take you off the island? Help you reach the outside world?"

I look at her, neither denying nor admitting it.

"Well, Jennie, let me explain something to you. Even if your attack had succeeded—which it wouldn't have, because Sorn is more than capable of handling one small girl—she wouldn't have been able to help you. When I leave, the plane leaves with me. There's no boat or any other way off the island."

Her words confirm what I had already suspected from my explorations. But I'm still hoping that—

"And I'm the only one who has access to my office. There's no computer or communication equipment anywhere else in the house. All Sorn can do is send me a direct message on a special line that we have set up. So you see, my pet, she would've been quite useless as a hostage."

So much for that hope. Each sentence feels like a nail getting pounded deeper into my coffin. If she's not lying to me, then my situation is far, far worse than I feared.

Unless Lisa chooses to let me go, I'll be stuck on her island forever.

I want to scream, cry, and throw things, but I can't let myself fall apart right now. Instead, I nod and pretend to be calm and rational. "I understand. I'm sorry, Lisa. I didn't know any of this before. I won't try to escape again, and I won't hurt Sorn. Please believe me . . ."

"I'd like to, Jennie." She looks almost regretful. "But I can't. You don't know me yet, so you're not sure if you can believe me. I need to show you that I'm a man of my word. The sooner you accept the inevitable, the happier you'll be."

And with that, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out something that looks like a phone. Pressing a button, she waits a couple of seconds, then says curtly, "You can proceed."

Then she turns her attention to the screen.

I do the same, a hollow sense of dread in my stomach.

The TV still shows an empty room, but a few seconds later, the door opens and Hanbin walks in.

He looks terrified. One of his eyes is swollen shut, and his nose is off-center, like it's broken. He's followed by a large masked figure toting a gun.

A horrified gasp escapes my lips. "Please, no . . ." I'm not even cognizant of moving, but my hands are somehow on Lisa's arm, tugging at her in desperation.

"Watch, Jennie." There's no emotion on Lisa's face as she pulls me into her arms, holding me so that I'm facing the TV. "I want you to learn once and for all that actions have consequences."

On the screen, the masked henchman suddenly reaches for Hanbin—

"No!"

—and hits him hard across the face with the handle of the gun. Hanbin stumbles backward, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth.

"Please, no!" I'm sobbing and struggling in Lisa's iron grip, my eyes glued to the violent scene taking place thousands of miles away.

Hanbin's attacker is relentless, hitting him over and over. I scream, feeling each blow inside my heart. Every brutal strike against Hanbin's body is killing something inside me, some belief in a brighter future that has held me together thus far.

When Hanbin falls to his knees, the man kicks him in the ribs, and I can hear Hanbin's pained groan.

"Please, Lisa," I whisper in defeat, slumping in her arms. "Please, stop . . ." I know I'm begging for mercy from a woman who has none. She's murdering Hanbin in front of my eyes, and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.

My captor lets the beating proceed for another minute before she releases me and pulls out her phone. I stare at her, trembling from head to toe. I don't even dare hope.

Lisa quickly types in a text. On the screen, I see Hanbin's assailant pausing and reaching into his pocket.

Then he stops completely and leaves Hanbin's room.

Hanbin is left lying on the floor, covered in blood. I remain glued to the screen, needing to know that he is alive. After a minute, I hear his groan and see him getting up. He hobbles toward the house phone, moving like an old man instead of an athletic young guy.

And then I hear him calling 911.

I sink to the floor and bury my face in my hands.

Lisa has won.

I know that my life will never be my own again.