Dirty Billionaire: Own Me

Chapter 7: Run

|Grace|

"I'm not lying..." I insisted, my tone grave, hoping to persuade the man seated to my right. I shifted slightly to meet his gaze directly, letting him witness my feigned sincerity. His expression betrayed his skepticism, the furrows on his forehead deepening, his eyes radiating menace and chill.

Of all the men surrounding me, Viktor—whom I had dubbed scar-man for days—was the only one who truly terrified me. It was through careful eavesdropping that I had finally learned his name.

"Cut it out, Grace. You know exactly what I'm capable of," he threatened, the click of his gun echoing in the room.

I swallowed hard, but I didn't dare break eye contact with Viktor. Fear coursed through every cell in my body, but I stood my ground. I had promised myself that I wouldn't let fate dictate my life, that I wouldn't be blown about by the whims of others. I refused to surrender.

I still craved my revenge.

This is my very last chance to escape, my very last chance to fight for my life. I may not stand a chance to fight these six men, who are three times bigger than me, but I would rather wager and take risks to get this last chance.

"We're still hours from our destination, stuck in the middle of nowhere, and I can't hold it any longer. My stomach's churning, and if I don’t get to a bathroom soon, this car’s going to reek. There's no way I'm letting go in here—it's too disgusting," I said, pouring every ounce of sincerity into my voice. The idea of peeing and relieving myself in the seat was revolting, and I acted as if the mere thought made me ill.

If I couldn’t convince these goons I needed a bathroom, my five-year streak of award-winning performances would mean nothing. This was my most critical role yet, and I had to make them believe it.

"And where exactly do you think I could run to in this strange place?" I said, my voice edged with desperation. "You can station guards at the restroom door or have your men watch the entire gas station to ensure I don't slip away. Shoot me if I so much as look like I'm trying to escape. Just let me use the bathroom—I can't hold it any longer!" I cried, crossing my legs and clutching my stomach. I continued to act out my discomfort, hoping to convince Viktor that I was telling the truth, even though I was far from it.

Viktor's brow furrowed, clearly struggling to decide whether or not to believe me.

I clenched my jaw, fully aware of the source of his suspicions. I had relied on my acting skills countless times before. In the past weeks, my every performance was driven by a desperate need to escape their grasp. But each attempt had ended in failure.

Now, three days after leaving the suburban hideout where they had initially kept me, this was my first opportunity to use those skills again. I realized that my repeated escape attempts were only reinforcing their vigilance. So, I decided to change my strategy, pretending to have resigned myself to captivity as we traveled by land to wherever these goons were taking me. My chance finally came during a stop at a self-service filling station, and hope flickered to life within me.

I wasn't entirely sure why they were taking me to another location. My gut, however, insisted that this was my final shot at freedom. If I didn’t seize this moment, death might be a kinder option.

What made me resolute that this was my chance to escape was the sight of the abandoned warehouse in the distance. It was about a couple of miles from the station. Hiding there wouldn’t guarantee my safety, but it might give me a fighting chance to survive if I could reach it.

I had to cling to hope... for my life. Fear of the unknown gnawed at me, and my teeth clenched so hard I thought they might break. Tears threatened to spill, but I forced them back. This was not the time to fall apart. I had a mission to accomplish.

"Alright," Viktor finally agreed. His words snapped me back to reality. As the meaning of what he said sank in, a flicker of hope ignited within me. I might actually have a chance to outsmart these people. But I kept my face a mask of calm, continuing to play my part.

"Thank goodness," I sighed, feigning relief.

Viktor was ready to exit this wretched van, and I was eager to follow. But then he stopped, turning and pointing his gun at me. My heart skipped a beat, and a wave of horror drained the blood from my face.

"But..." His voice carried a chilling edge. Viktor pressed the muzzle of the gun against my temple. "Try to run again, Grace, and I won't hesitate to pull the trigger. Don't forget my warning."

I bit my lip, managing a shaky nod despite the fear coursing through me. I had no choice but to keep up the charade, convincing myself this was just a scene in a movie and the gun Viktor was pointing at me was nothing but a prop.

"I gave you permission to shoot, didn't I?" I retorted, trying to mask the tremor in my voice. Despite my outward bravado, my heart hammered against my ribs, and every nerve screamed with fear. Viktor held my gaze for a lingering moment before finally exiting the van.

Suddenly, doubt crept in, causing me to hesitate about proceeding with my plan. I wondered if it would actually succeed or if I was about to make a catastrophic mistake. But I quickly dismissed those negative thoughts.

"I must hold onto hope. I must hold onto hope. I must hold onto hope," I repeated to myself like a desperate mantra. Despite the simplicity of my plan, I clung to the belief that an opportunity to escape from these captors would present itself.

Taking a deep breath, I finally exited the van, greeted instantly by the biting cold wind. With my part to play clear in my mind, I hurried toward the restroom. Closing the door behind me, I flicked on the dim, stuttering lights and quickly scanned the small space.

What I saw wasn't exactly pleasant. However, my immediate concern was the arrangement of the toilet, sink, and window. When I confirmed they were positioned as I had hoped, relief washed over me. I eyed the faucet located opposite the toilet, feeling a surge of anticipation as I hurried over and turned it on.

With my heart racing, I swiftly mapped out my next moves. Although eager to seize this opportunity to escape, I knew I had to proceed cautiously. I remained in the bathroom for a few minutes, finalizing my plan in my mind before cautiously cracking open the door and peeking out through a small gap I had created.

As expected, Viktor and his accomplice were waiting just outside. I glanced around, searching for their other associates.

"I found some water," I told Viktor. He gave me a puzzled look.

"Are you ready? We're going," he said, his voice laced with menace.

"Can I at least clean up before we go? I've been feeling sticky after not showering for three days," I pleaded.

Viktor stared at me as though I was speaking an incomprehensible language.

"No. We're leaving," he insisted, reaching for the door handle. But I wasn't about to let him go that easily.

"Got any spare clothes? I need to freshen up. Who knows when we'll hit the next gas station with a decent bathroom," I pressed on, ignoring his attempt to cut me off.

"No. We're moving—"

"Seriously? I'm just asking for something to clean myself with and you won't even do that?!" My frustration boiled over, and it caught Viktor and his buddy off guard. I held my ground, refusing to let my expression falter.

"Do you honestly think I'd try to escape again? Do you really believe a single woman stands a chance against all of you, armed as you are? I'm not foolish enough to risk my life once more. I've resigned myself to the fact that I can't break free from you, that I'll go with you willingly this time! So why deny me this simple request?"

My breath came in ragged bursts, frustration threatening to overwhelm me. I poured out my emotions in a torrent, on the verge of tears. If they denied me this one chance, everything I had hoped for would crumble like dust in the wind.

Viktor's gaze lingered on me briefly before acquiescing to my request. Without hesitation, he beckoned to the man by the van, likely the driver, to fetch some spare clothes.

Seizing the opportunity, I mentally mapped out the positions of the other three goons. A silent grin spread within me when I noticed none of them had ventured behind the toilet block.

Good. At least luck is on my side for now.

Shortly after, the driver pulled up in front of us and passed over spare pants and shirts they had on hand. I accepted them gratefully, murmuring my thanks. Just as I was about to shut the door, Viktor halted it with the barrel of his gun, as if he needed to say something before I could even think about a quick shower.

"You've got five minutes. If you're not finished by then, I'll come in, no matter if you're fvcking naked," he threatened.

I swallowed hard and nodded in acknowledgment.

"Can you at least unlock these cuffs so I can finish on time?" I asked, holding out my hands. Viktor stared at them for a few moments, sighed, and then took out the keys from his waistband. I had braced myself for a refusal, already planning how I'd struggle to escape through the window later. But to my surprise, he agreed. I managed to keep my shock hidden just in time.

In less than a minute, Viktor had unlocked the handcuffs. I rubbed my sore wrists, relieved and already thinking ahead.

"Thanks," I say, staring at the angry red marks on my wrists. "Give me five minutes." As the door clicked shut behind them, my mental timer began.

Five minutes.

Not a second to waste, I set my plan into motion. I turned on the faucet, letting the water spill into the bucket until it overflowed. Twice, I scooped and poured, the water splashing loudly onto the floor. With the dipper back in the bucket, I hoisted myself onto the sink, ready for what came next.

Four minutes.

I wrestled with the tiny window in the bathroom, questioning whether I could even squeeze through. Doubt gnawed at me, but I pushed it aside and gave it everything I had. This was my only shot at freedom, and I couldn't afford to waste it.

Three minutes.

At last, I managed to wedge myself through the small opening, leading with my legs before making a swift, silent leap to the ground below. I prayed the sound of running water would mask my escape.

Two minutes.

I quietly slipped off my shoes, determined to move silently across the distance from this restroom to the warehouse. The tall grass would serve as my cover from the eyes of my captors.

One minute and thirty seconds.

With just ninety seconds remaining, I dashed toward the tall grass, crouching low to hide my build and silhouette.

One minute.

Without making a sound, I ran for my life.