Roy’s grip loosens.
Through slitted eyes, Sal watches. Breathes shallowly.
As Roy swings himself off her body, Sal kicks.
And lands a sharp knee to his nuts.
Roy bellows in pain. He doubles over onto himself. Sal kicks again. Blindly. This time she hits him square in the jaw with her heel, sending him to the floor.
He’s hurt.
Down.
Sal doesn’t even stop to think. Heart thundering in her chest, she lurches for the open window. Her closest escape route.
She fumbles with the locked door—she’s done.
Sal hits her stomach on the windowsill, hard, driving the air from her lungs.
Her body’s halfway through when she’s yanked back.
Roy has her ankle.
She screams and kicks, jerking herself loose. On blind faith alone, she flings herself out the window. She doesn’t care if there’s nothing to hold her up if she plummets to the ground—all she cares about is getting away from Roy. Escape is the only thing that matters.
Luckily, she lands on a thin, slanted eave.
She looks up, certain he’s coming after her, but all she sees is his angry, piggish face glaring at her through the window.
Sal lets out a wild cry of relief when she sees what’s coming. Luke’s jacked-up Ford barreling down the thin dirt road. Plumes of dust billowing up behind it like a smoke signal.
Breathing hard, she glances back once more at the window.
Roy’s round moon face is gone.
Sal takes a breath. Takes a leap of faith. She lets go of the eave and falls.
When she lands, she runs for the boys.
The truck rips into the driveway and Luke slams on the brakes.
Sal’s barreling toward them across the grass. Barefoot, in underwear and a white T-shirt, the muscles in her slender legs trembling.
Seth looks up at the open window. Looks at Luke. “Did she just—”
But Luke’s already out of the truck and running. His heart punching itself out of his chest at the sight of a fear-stricken Sal scrambling across the dirt.
“Sal!” Luke shouts.
Something happened. Something bad.
And Luke wasn’t there.
Sal throws herself into his arms. He catches her like she knew he would. Because she can’t stay standing much longer. Sagging in relief, she pitches forward. The only thing keeping her upright is Luke’s arm, hooked around her waist to keep her steady.
“Roy,” Sal rasps. She’s pale and shaking. “He’s in the house.”
Rage electrifies Luke. He cups her face, his gaze sweeping over her as fast as it can. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Sal?”