Page 103

MARISELA

I couldn’t hear anything past the buzzing and sawing and occasional cursing that traveled up through the vents and rattled the vintage registers in the walls.

Adrian’s men were here taking care of my mess in the basement.

Chopping up bodies and making it easier to dispose of them before they moved on to the well. Until they moved on to my mother.

I hadn’t thought about her in years, if I were being honest. I should have been horrified. I wasn’t. Knowing she was so close was a comfort in a weird way. The guilt waning like the water that was seeping into the earth instead of keeping her afloat.

I hadn’t left her behind. Not if she was out there.

Before I realized what I was doing, I was crossing the foyer and headed to the front door. Swiping the keys to their van from the table in search of a flashlight and maybe some rope .

I couldn’t explain why today was the day I needed to find out for myself. But I did. I needed to know as much as I didn’t want to know.

It was like that Austrian guy and his experiment with the cat.

Until I saw it with my own eyes, my mother was both in the well and she wasn’t.

And the moment the guys went looking for her would be the same moment I’d know for sure.

The same moment I’d be forced to face the reality of what we’d done to her.

What I’d asked someone to do to her because I was too much of a coward to do it myself.

It wasn’t a moment that needed an audience.

My heels kicked at the gravel driveway, the sun beating down on my bare shoulders as I made my way towards the gray panel van.

Unlocked the back door and swung it open.

Illuminating the dark interior as a stream of light reflected off a set of metal cuffs, and my eyes tried to focus on the arm they were attached to.

Following the glint up to the hook in the ceiling that kept her body suspended on her tiptoes and her sundress flickering in the wind.

The girl didn’t move. She didn’t speak either. Whether or not she could sense my presence was as much a guess to me as was what had been done to her over the last week or so. Her face was covered several times around but I didn’t need to see it to recognize her.

Emily Shaw. My former assistant and their current prisoner.

I didn’t care what became of her. Why she was handcuffed inside this van or what those men planned to do with her. At least I shouldn’t have cared. Caring and trusting were what had gotten her into this situation to begin with. Still, I found myself fiddling with the lock and freeing her arm.

After this, Emily was on her own. She could run or she could stay. What she couldn’t do was say she didn’t have a choice anymore. I’d done my part. In both putting her here and letting her out.

The rest was up to fate. And how quickly her feet could move across my front lawn.

I swiped up a coil of rope from one of the shelves in the van, before tucking a flashlight under my arm, and then walked off without a backward glance.

I couldn’t hear the power tools buzzing anymore. Which meant my former assistant didn’t have much time to decide if she was going to keep standing there with a blindfold on her face or rip it off and run.

“What exactly were you planning on doing with that rope?” Adrian asked, the crunching of sticks and leaves alerting me to his presence long before his voice did. “Gonna climb down and have a look yourself?”

“I don’t know, honestly.” I didn’t bother turning around, my elbows resting on the edge of the well as I peered into the hole like if I kept staring I could see her. I couldn’t. “Is she really down there? ”

“Yes.” He came up behind me, closing his arms around my waist and tugging me closer to his chest while resting his chin on my shoulder.

“How far does it go?”

Adrian sighed. “I’m not sure.”

“Maybe we should just leave her there, then. I doubt anyone will think to go looking.”

“They never did for my mother. So you’re probably right.”

I spun around in his hold, linking my arms around his neck as I peered up into his eyes.

I couldn’t tell you what I was hoping to find.

Empathy? Disapproval? What I could tell you was that I saw a hint of sadness instead.

Sadness and acceptance. Adrian saw something in me I couldn’t see in myself.

And I had to admit I enjoyed his version much better.

Even if it was still a little rose-tinted at times.

“She’s down there too?” I asked him.

“That’s what they say.” He lifted a nonchalant shoulder before adding, “But who really knows?”

“Aren’t you curious?”

He nodded once. “I am.”

“But not enough to check?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Not enough to check.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Yeah, maybe I should,” he agreed, lowering his face and capturing my mouth in a kiss that was as possessive as it was comforting.

I didn’t know what it meant to feel… that before now. Sure, I remembered what it was like to have my mother hold me close when I was little. What it was like to look to her for comfort as a kid. But that was different. This was different.

This was understanding. It wasn’t loving someone because it was something you should do. Like a parent should love a child. It was loving them despite everyone telling you that you shouldn’t. It was choosing them despite the horrors that surrounded each of you.

Or maybe it was because of them. Maybe those horrors were more of a comfort than anything else. Because they helped us feel less alone in the darkness we found ourselves trapped inside without any hope of climbing out.