Free Surrender by Stephanie Tyler

sent them. It was all part of their plan. They wanted to use me at first, the way you want to.”
    Recalling those early days, when she’d been nothing but a Section 8 pawn, the same way she’d been Rip’s pawn all those years, made Grace tense up. But it hadn’t taken Darius and Adele long before they’d stopped speaking to her like she was a prisoner.
    She’d assumed what went a long way toward softening them was seeing the unhealed stripes from the whip on her back and arms. Adele had to help her medicate the newest ones after they’d gotten infected during her first weeks at the house.
    Even after she trusted them and they trusted her—and she had no doubt they truly did—she never admitted to them that she had a gift of precognition. Broken or not, that might make anyone rethink their decision not to use her.
    The psychic skills that lay dormant for years had never blossomed here, as she’d feared they might. She was more than grateful they remained silent, because that gift reminded her of her past, her mother . . . she refused to be a shell of her former self, another one of Rip’s victims.
    So why had she let Dare take her so easily? She’d recognized him, yes, but his intent hadn’t been pure, like his father’s had. She’d felt his arms around her like strong bonds of protection. He was conflicted . . . but he was the better choice for what was coming.
    “Are you sure . . . about Darius?”
    “Are you?” he asked, his voice a fierce rasp. “Did you have something to do with his death?”
    “No.” Darius had seemed indestructible. She couldn’t believe he was gone. And if he was, by Rip’s hand, that was her fault, another person to add to the list that made her cringe with guilt.
    “So S8 rescues you and then you just happen to stay with them . . . and then Rip just happens to pick them off, one by one.”
    “You can’t think I had anything to do with it.”
    “I don’t know what to think!” he roared. “You’re his daughter. You could be working for him—now and then. It’s the perfect plan. Especially because Darius is the one who pointed me in your direction.”
    “Maybe to save me, not use me. Maybe I’m in as much damned danger as you are, if not more.”
    “Haven’t seen Rip try to kill you recently,” Dare told her. He spread his hands, palms up, and showed her the scars on both of them. They’d driven spikes through his hands. There were exit wounds on the backs of his hands when he turned them over. “It was just for show. Never would’ve hung—my skin and muscle would’ve ripped like paper trying to hold my weight.”
    “He’s not me,” she whispered. “I’m not responsible for what he’s done. I can’t be.”
    But in her heart, she knew she always would be, no matter how vigorous her protest, no matter how clear her conscience should be. Because it wasn’t, no matter how much she’d tried to repent for crimes she’d never committed, even though the only thing she was truly guilty of was not killing Rip when she’d had the chance.
    “I’m sorry,” shesaid now. “I can’t say anything else.”
    “You can. You will. I’ve got nothing but time.”
    This time, there might really be no way out.
    * * *
    They bothheard the noise at the same time—a truck, coming through the bayou at top speed, despite the rain. It was someone who knew the area well.
    Dare took her by the biceps and brought her over to a heavy pipe that ran from floor to ceiling in the corner. He handcuffed her wrists around the pipe and then pushed a chair under her so she could sit.
    Grace’s phone didn’t have GPS—he’d checked that already. “Who else knows about this place?” he demanded.
    She didn’t answer, pressed her lips together until he said, “If you don’t tell me, I’ll kill them on sight.”
    “No, please . . . it’s just my friend Marnie. She knows if she can’t find me at home that sometimes I come here and sit on the porch.”
    He was out