My fingers tremble as I reach for her shoulder. “Olivia, wake up.”
Nothing.
I push myself to a sitting position, fighting a wave of nausea. My head spins, and I press my palm against the floor to stay upright. What happened? Where are we?
The masquerade. Bits and pieces flash through my mind. Hunter’s warning. The necklace.
Olivia’s face twisted with hurt and betrayal when I told her about Hunter and me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though she can’t hear me. “I’m so sorry.”
Then I remember the rest—Ari stumbling toward us, his warning. Men in server uniforms had surrounded us. The sharp prick of a needle. Hunter’s necklace fell from my throat as consciousness slipped away.
My breathing accelerates as panic claws up my chest. I scan the cell—solid door with a small window, no other openings, no furniture, nothing but concrete and the two of us in our evening gowns.
“Help!” I call, my voice breaking. “Someone help us!”
Only silence answers. I crawl to Olivia, checking her pulse. Still steady. Whatever they injected us with must be keeping her under longer.
Who took us? Why? The answer whispers through my mind: Jax. Hunter warned me about him, but I never understood the danger until now.
I drag myself up from the floor, legs wobbling. My evening gown feels like a cruel joke now, the fabric catching on the rough concrete as I move.
“Water pipes,” I murmur, following the industrial piping that runs along the ceiling. The pipes disappear into the wall, thick and old with patches of rust blooming like copper flowers.
I press my palm against the wall. It’s cold and damp. The moisture seeps through my skin, chilling me to the bone. Thisisn’t just a basement; we’re deep underground. The air has that distinctive density and stillness, like being buried alive.
A small drain sits in the corner of the floor; its metal grate rusted at the edges. I kneel to examine it, noting the slight slope of the concrete toward it. My stomach turns. The floor is designed to be hosed down.
In the far corner, a metal toilet is bolted to the floor, no seat or lid, just bare steel. Next to it, a small sink with a push-button faucet that releases water for precise five-second intervals when I test it. The entire setup is minimal comfort, maximum control.
My gaze drifts upward to a ventilation shaft near the ceiling, too small for even a child to fit through, covered with a heavy metal grate secured by bolts that would require tools to remove.
The door is solid steel with a small viewing window at eye level. Through it, I glimpse a dimly lit corridor with similar doors lining the opposite wall. If the doors on the other side are anything to go by, the lock is electronic, with a keypad outside the cell.
Most disturbing of all are the two narrow cots bolted to the floor against opposite walls. They’re fitted with thin vinyl mattresses and secured blankets.
“This place...” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. “It wasn’t built for us. It was already here, waiting.”
I hear a soft groan and turn to see Olivia stirring, her mascara smudged beneath her eyes. Relief floods through me despite our dire situation.
“Liv, thank god. Are you okay?”
She blinks slowly, confusion clouding her features. “Aurora? Where...” Her voice trails off as she takes in our surroundings, awareness dawning in her eyes like a terrible sunrise.
“No, no, no.” Olivia scrambles to a sitting position, her designer gown pooling around her. “Where are we? What is this place?”
“I don’t know,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’re somewhere underground. I think we were drugged at the masquerade.”
Olivia’s breathing accelerates, coming in short and shallow gasps. She jumps to her feet, stumbling slightly as the drugs linger in her system.
“We have to get out!” She rushes to the door, pulling frantically at the handle that doesn’t budge. “Help! Someone help us!” Her fists pound against the metal, each impact echoing through our cell.
“Liv, calm down?—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” She whirls toward me. “We’ve been kidnapped! We’re going to die in here!”
“We’re not going to die,” I say firmly, though I’m far from certain.
