Page 109 of The Devil

I nod in gratitude but he doesn’t see it.

“How the fuck are we going to find her in there?” Cassian asks as he takes in the sheer size of the place.

“We’re not,” I say. Cassian turns to me, eyebrows raised. “Cotton’s going to find her.” I set my hand on Cotton’s head. She’s standing obediently at my side, her good eye on the castle as if she, too, understands. I scratch behind her ears like she likes and she turns her cheek into my palm. Her way of showing her affection and allegiance.

No one is guarding the cave entrance. No need. Water has risen higher since they marched us out here not too long ago. Once we reach the rickety old dock, I throw the rope out, lassoing it around a pole. Sev’s first off and he catches the second rope I toss, securing us as best he can in this storm. The men file out, me leading the way with Cotton running slightly ahead in a hurry to get to dry land. Trauma, I think. I don’t know how many hours she survived on that cliff’s edge where she was left to die and have no doubt she felt the same terror any human would feel.

“Good girl,” I tell her. “Good girl.”

Cassian and Sev flank me, soldiers in fatigues follow behind us. We’re soaked to mid-calf, and I wonder how high the water will get. If it’ll fill the cave and make exiting from here impossible. I haven’t thought that far ahead. My only thought has been Amal.

“It’ll be slippery,” I call back.

Cotton gives a bark when we reach the cave entrance and I quiet her. We all take our phones out to use the flashlights.

“No service,” Cassian notes.

“They must have it blocked on the entire island,” Sev says.

The sound of the sea recedes as we climb higher, the stone stairs growing less wet, less slippery. Cotton moves faster than us but keeps doubling back to make sure I’m following. She’s been fiercely loyal from the day I hauled her up from that cliff’s edge. My one-eyed protector.

“We’re getting close,” Sev says as the passage grows slightly less dark.

“Stay, girl,” I tell Cotton and she obediently sits on the step while I pass her. Up ahead, I see the light around the edges of the door cut into the wall. Taking the hunting knife in hand, I press my ear to the it but it’s too thick to hear much. Signaling the others to wait, I push the door open and peer into the corridor.

“What the fu⁠—”

Before he can finish his sentence, I grab the soldier and slice his throat with the edge of my knife, dropping him. It’s a good death. Quicker than any of them deserve.

After confirming the corridor is clear, I signal for the others to follow. Cotton’s first, leaping over the dead body to come to my side, paws leaving little red prints as she walks slightly ahead of me.

The corridor is dimly lit, lights still flickering like they had when those bastards took Amal from me. Tightening my grip on the knife, I pan the flashlight over the walls. I need to find the room they took her to although I doubt they kept her there. But I need to get there so Cotton can pick up her scent.

“What are we looking for?” Cassian asks. He’s watching Sev and I search the walls.

“There’s a secret door. They grabbed Amal here somewhere when the lights went out so if we find it⁠—”

“Something like this?” Cassian asks, cutting me off and dragging the light from his phone over the panel that’s cut into the wall.

As if to give us a clue, the blinking lights go completely out. Cotton growls. Soldiers grab their guns. The lights blink back on, resuming their flickering. I push at the door, trying to find the way to open it, but this one doesn’t give so easily. I push my shoulder into it, growing desperate but nothing.

“Here,” Sev says. He’s crouched down and I see where he’s pointing. A pedal low to the ground. He straightens.

Cassian takes aim, ready to shoot to kill any man standing behind it. He signals to Sev to go ahead.

Sev presses his foot to the lever and the door slides soundlessly open onto a room with minimal furnishings, two old chairs whose upholstery rotted away long ago, a threadbare Persian carpet on the floor. There are three windows at the wall.

The room is empty. No Amal.

My heartbeats slow and although I’m disappointed, I didn’t really expect to find her so easily, did I? If she were here, they’d have kept guards to watch her.

I cross the room to the window and look out. We’re maybe three, four stories high and down below the black boats bob almost invisible in dark water.

Was she here? Did she watch us go? Did she watch me lift the woman I thought was her onto the boat and beat her fists against these sealed windows desperate to be heard? It would be impossible through these walls and windows, even without the storm, and how cruel to let her watch.

My gut clenches and I turn to face the men. Cassian is crouched where Cotton is lying flat, face between her paws, whining a little as if to say: ‘Here, look here’.

Cassian stands, lifting a piece of red lace. He holds it out to me, and I take it from her. Torn lace. That mask they’d gagged her with.