Reign of the Rejected Rosary (Ryden/Peterick)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Pete and I waited down the road for five minutes after Ryan left. Soon we got the text from him: "we're in the office. Careful."

We walked up the driveway, and quietly tip-toed up the porch steps. Pete's hand carefully twisted the door knob, and he opened the door so slowly that it couldn't possibly creek.

We snuck inside, and Pete closed the door. He locked it behind us so Ryan's father wouldn't get suspicious if he came out and the door was opened.

"Be careful," I mouthed to Pete.

"You too," he mouthed back.

We then went our separate ways. He slipped upstairs, and I started to scope out the downstairs. I walked quietly past the door to what I assumed to be the office. I could hear voices on the other side, but through the closed door I couldn't make out what was being said. I didn't know what Ryan could have possibly thought of to say on the spot, but I assumed he must've been doing okay, so I moved on.

I glanced into every room, even though I knew that Patrick wouldn't be out in the open. The door to the basement scared me. I could feel the anxiety creeping in as I approached it. There was a lock.

I went back to the front door to check the key ring. All that was there was a car key with the key to the house on it. I knew the key wouldn't have just been sitting out. I needed to pick the lock.

I wanted to pace the hallway, but I knew that proposed an opportunity to make noise and get caught. My first thought was a paperclip, but I knew something like that would be in the office. And even if it wasn't, I didn't know where to begin looking for one. I didn't have the time. A bobby pin was a long shot. I needed the key.

Or the sharp, perfect for picking locks, end of a certain someone's key.

To Pete: Please tell me you have Patrick's key.

Pete: Of course I do

To Pete: Come downstairs

Pete was incredibly quiet. I almost jumped when suddenly he was standing next to me with Patrick's key in his hand. He gave it to me, and then went back upstairs to search the other rooms, just in case.

I picked the lock, and when the door opened it was hard to keep in the sigh of relief.

There was a light on at the bottom of the steps. I took my time going down, so I couldn't make a sound.

When I made it downstairs I made contact with those blue-green eyes that I hadn't seen in so long.

I ran to him. He was handcuffed to the furnace, and his ankles were cuffed together. There was silver duct tape across his mouth, and I ripped it off fast.

"God, Patrick, are you okay?" I whispered.

His shirt buttons were off and buttoned in the wrong holes. His jeans were ripped and his left shoe was gone. I saw it across the room, but I didn't grab it yet. There was blood on his face and purple bruises around his eye.

"The keys are over there," he whispered, nodding towards the wall. He ignored my question. I knew the answer anyway.

I rushed to the wall and grabbed the keys. I took Patrick's left Converse and brought it to him, so it would be easier for him to run out. I unlocked the cuffs on his hands and ankles, and he struggled to put on his shoe as I texted Pete.

To Pete: Basement. I have him

There was nothing in the basement besides Patrick, the furnace, and a few boxes. It was unfinished, and absolutely freezing. The floor was cement, and made way too much noise when I moved. The sound of my shoe hitting the ground was loud, and my voice echoed even when I whispered.

I tried to help Patrick stand, but he collapsed, falling back against the furnace. It made a huge bang, and Patrick cried in pain from the heat against his skin. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him away. I knew his ankle had to be twisted, and I could hear two sets of footsteps running across the floor of the main level. The door flew open, and I saw Ryan and Patrick's father for the first time.

Ryan was a spitting image of his father, and I only realized it because Ryan was running down the steps behind him.

There was anger laced in the older man's caramel eyes, and I sensed a hint of neglected sadness.

He grabbed Ryan's elbow and pushed him to the ground in front of him. He scrambled backwards, and that was when the gun was pulled out.

My eyes widened, and I could feel my heart beating in my chest. The gun was being pointed back and forth at Ryan and Patrick. He was giving me a choice of who to save, because neither one was in the position to save themselves.

No words were exchanged. Patrick was crying in pain. Ryan's eyes were wide with fear. But I didn't have to save either of them. I saw Pete quietly walking down the steps. I didn't watch Pete, and the other two were too afraid of the gun to notice. I didn't want to draw attention to him in any way.

Pete jumped onto Ryan's father's back and wrestled him to the ground. It became a battle for the gun, and I couldn't tear my eyes away. Both men were strong, and the struggle went back and forth.

"Fucking run!" Pete yelled at me.

I blinked hard, and suddenly reality was flooding back to me.

I picked Patrick up bridal style to carry him out. He struggled, because he just wanted to save Pete.

"Let me go," Patrick cried. "Pete!"

Ryan and I ran up the stairs with Patrick.

"Pete, I love you!"

"I love you too!"

Patrick was pretty much hysterical when Ryan and I took him out of the house and to the back seat of the car. I took his shirt off and made him lay on his stomach so I could see if the furnace burned him. And it did. The middle of his back was a darkening shade of red. I was sure it was going to blister.

Spencer had called the police, and we locked the doors and waited for Pete to come out.

Pete had texted Spencer on his way to the basement, telling Spencer to get to the house and call for help.

Spencer didn't ask why Pete didn't come out with us.

But then I heard the gun shoot off. Then again. And again. And I knew one had to be dead. I just didn't know who yet.