by Stella Hart
“Because she’s a self-righteous cunt,” Marissa replied. “She probably thought getting us lost down here would be a fitting punishment for our behavior. I mean, look how she made us apologize to Rowan before. Who the fuck does she think she is?”
“Ugh, I know. She’s been such an uptight bitch lately. It’s so freaking annoying,” Kate said. “Like, okay, we get it, Willow, your mom is the vice president! That doesn’t make you freaking royalty!”
Marissa laughed. “Exactly. She thinks she’s so great.”
“To be fair, the president and vice president are kind of like royalty in this country. I mean, it’s basically our version of it, right?” Simone said.
“Whatever. That doesn’t give Willow the right to order us around.” Marissa’s voice rose in pitch as she adopted a mocking tone. “Ooh, I’m Willow Rhoades, and I’m the queen of the world. By the way, in case you hadn’t heard yet, I go to Georgetown.”
Kate snickered. “As if Georgetown is even that good. It’s not like she got into Yale or MIT.”
“Did you get into Yale or MIT?” Simone asked, seemingly the only voice of reason in this nasty little exchange.
“Shut up, Simone.”
The voices drifted away as the girls headed farther back up the tunnel. Soon, their conversation was no longer audible.
“Lovely friends you have there. But that’s not exactly surprising, is it?” I murmured in Willow’s ear.
I’d watched her for a while now. She acted like she was different to the snobby bitches she hung out with, but I knew who she was deep down. I knew all the dirty, dreadful secrets she kept locked up in the deepest and ugliest parts of her soul. Out of all the catty D.C. princesses, she was the worst.
By far.
Once her friends were out of range, I pushed her out of the alcove and took my hand off her mouth. When I brought my phone light out again, I saw her eyes dart over my shoulder in the direction her friends had gone in. I stepped back, squared my shoulders and widened my stance to block her.
“Not this way, princess,” I growled, shaking my head. “I told you, your friends won’t help you tonight.”
She turned and sprinted in the opposite direction, violent sobs shaking her body as she veered all over the dark path ahead. I didn’t let her get very far this time. I grabbed her hair and yanked her back, relishing the scream that burst from her lips, and then I pulled her against my chest again.
This time, she dropped like a dead weight, slipping through my arms to the floor. I chuckled. “Smart girl,” I said, stopping and watching as she got up and tried to run again. “Survival instincts finally kicking in, huh?”
I lunged after her, wrenching her back into my grip. She thrashed around to no avail, and then she went limp and began to cry in earnest. I pulled her around so that she was facing me again, aching at the sight of her helpless, quaking terror. She was close to giving up and letting me have her.
So close.
“Who are you?” she asked in a ragged whisper, hands shaking by her side as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Why… why are you doing this?”
“Because you asked for it.”
She stopped, every part of her freezing except her chest, which continued to rise and fall in heavy, shaky breaths. “No,” she whispered. “I didn’t. Please, just let me go.”
I let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “You know, because you asked so politely, I’m going to do exactly that.”
I took a step back, watching as confusion knitted her brows. She had no idea if I was fucking with her or not. For all she knew, I might grab her at any second and slam her up against one of these cold stone walls before tearing off that sexy dress and violently assaulting her. Or worse.
“Next time I might not be so nice,” I said to let her know that I was serious about freeing her. I’d already brought her to the point of near-paralysis. There was no more fun to be had tonight without actually hurting her, which I couldn’t do.
Six months from now, however, it would be a different story.
“Go, before I change my mind,” I added, just to give her one more little fright.
She gulped down a deep breath and ran away. Every few seconds, her head whipped around to check if I was still stalking her. I raised one black-gloved hand and waved, wishing she could see the satisfied grin on my face. Then I pretended to lunge in her direction, watching with delight as horror twisted her delicate features. She screamed and burst forward, rounding a corner where the tunnel branched off. I laughed and stayed still.
“Bye, princess,” I murmured, even though there was no way she could hear me anymore. “We’ll do this again soon.”
We would, only next time, it wouldn’t be a game.
Next time, I wouldn’t let her go.
When October came, Willow Rhoades would be all mine…
5
Willow
My heart was racing, threatening to explode out of my chest, and my limbs felt weak and shaky as I dashed blindly into the darkness. My masked attacker was still behind me somewhere, and he could catch up at any second.
My mind was a sticky mess of terror and confusion. Who was the man behind the mask? Why did he target me? Why did he say he would let me go, only to lunge after me again? Was it yet another part of his sick game?
Again, why?
I racked my brains as I flew down yet another passageway, trying to recall the sound of my assailant’s voice. He’d spoken to me multiple times and knew my name, but I didn’t recognize him. The gruff voice was definitely familiar, though. I just couldn’t figure out why. If I heard it one more time, that lightbulb in my mind might switch on, and I could figure out who he was and get the bastard in trouble.
How? A little voice in the back of my mind argued with me as I gulped down heavy breaths. Are you going to call the police? Tell them you were in a secret tunnel that only government employees know about? And what then? You’ll demand they arrest someone for chasing you around?
It sounded ridiculous when I thought about it like that. The man didn’t actually hurt me, so it wasn’t like he could be punished for that. I suppose there was some property damage when the light on my phone broke, but that happened when I tripped, so it wasn’t entirely his fault.
Dragging me into that alcove and keeping me from my friends could count as some sort of assault or abduction, though. My brain immediately went to an old prep school class of mine where we had to study different areas of the law. False imprisonment occurs when someone is restricted in their personal movement within any area without justification or consent.
I definitely didn’t give my consent for that shit.
Unfortunately, I still had no idea who the man was, so those charges weren’t going to happen anytime soon. It was just wishful thinking to make me feel like I had some semblance of control while I was trapped down here in these godforsaken tunnels, freezing-cold and alone.
I stopped for a few seconds and crouched on the floor, panting like crazy. There were no footsteps pounding behind me, so I was fairly certain I was safe for now. I just needed to figure out where the hell I was. My attacker had sent me running down a tunnel I hadn’t explored in the past, and after frantically ducking around several unfamiliar corners in my terrified frenzy, it had finally dawned on me that I was hopelessly lost.
Raising my cell with a trembling hand, I clicked on a few buttons to see if I could get it working. The light on the back was still cracked and broken, but the screen finally switched on, bathing the eerie space around me in a faint glow.
“Thank god,” I whispered to myself, shining the weak light around the tunnel. On my right, I spotted another one of the carved arrows that Simone noticed earlier, along with another triangle and eye symbol.
My mind flashed back to her earlier remark. ‘We should follow the arrow and see if we can find more of these symbols. Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to find the secret rooms and passages.’
I had no idea if she was right about that, but at the
very least, the arrows could eventually lead me to an exit, as they were obviously added to the walls as some sort of guide. I just had to keep following the etchings wherever I could find them.
Directly ahead of me, the tunnel branched off in three directions. The arrow on the wall pointed to the path on the far right. Using the glow from my phone screen to guide my way, I tentatively headed down the new passage, whipping my head over my shoulder every few minutes to make sure no one was following me.
My breathing remained harsh and panicked as I made my way through the tunnel, but I did my best to stay as quiet as possible beyond that. I couldn’t see or hear the masked man anywhere, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking somewhere nearby, still searching for me in his deranged game of hide and seek.
I spotted another symbol and arrow up ahead, and my brows rose in shock as I poked my head into the wide passage it pointed toward. This tunnel wasn’t dark and squalid like the rest. It was cleaner with high-arched stone ceilings, and the walls were lined with dark metal sconces. Candles flickered in each one, lighting the path ahead.
That was promising.
About halfway down the path, another arrow pointed directly to the right. I ventured down some stone steps to find more candles, several wall etchings, and an array of marble statues. With wide eyes, I stopped to take in the intricate patterns and breathtaking artistry of the carvings.
What the hell was this place?
Yet another arrow pointed toward two enormous statues at the end, and when I drew closer, I saw a wide stone door between them. Above it was a carved scroll with gold lettering forming three words. Novus ordo orbis.
I’d learned some Latin back in high school, but I couldn’t remember most of it. I knew ‘novus’ meant ‘new’, and that was it.
I took another tentative step forward. A slight whirring sound drew my attention. Looking up, I saw a small black camera in the corner moving to the left to point at me. I ducked my head so it wouldn’t catch my face, suddenly nervous. That was when I noticed the keycard slot on the door.
With shaky hands, I fumbled through my clutch and located the card I took from my father so long ago. I didn’t expect it to actually work on this mysterious door, but when I swiped it through the slot, the heavy stone creaked and swung wide open into some sort of foyer.
The floor was made of black and white marble tiles, and the ceilings were high with ornate moldings sweeping around the edges. Tall black and red candles lit the small space. From somewhere up ahead, muffled voices, music, and laughter drifted through the air.
“What the hell is this place?” I muttered to myself, brows dipping in confusion. Behind me, the door suddenly closed with a bang, making me jump.
On my left was a low table cluttered with black and gold Venetian-style masks. I reached down and took one, carefully slipping it over my face before securing it at the back. While I was only here to ask for help and directions, something told me I wasn’t supposed to have found this place at all, let alone made my way inside. Until I got the lay of the land, it was probably better that I disguise my identity.
I took a few nervous steps forward. Several arched entryways lay ahead. Most of the halls beyond were dim, lit only by the soft glow of a few black candles, but the door on the left led to a bright and warm space. That was where the chatter and music was coming from.
Gulping, I stepped down the hall. My brows shot up as I took in my new surroundings. It seemed to be some sort of party room, but it was much bigger than any ballroom or nightclub I’d ever been in before.
Scattered around the hardwood floors were several black leather sofas and ottomans, deep red and gold velvet chaise lounges, and polished cherry-wood tables littered with crystal glasses and china plates. Masked wait-staff circulated the space, handing out drinks and food to jovial guests. Some of those guests wore masks like mine, but others were barefaced.
In the center of the room, there was a long narrow pool, filled with steaming turquoise water. A large gold-plated dragon statue rose from the surface in the center. Its body and wings were encrusted with precious jewels, and ruby eyes flickered in the glow of the candles and chandeliers that lit the room. Nude men and women with perfect bodies and gold spray-painted skin frolicked in the warm water around it, giggling and splashing.
I gazed around with wide eyes, still trying to figure out what the hell I was looking at. With a sharp intake of breath, I realized I recognized at least half of the barefaced guests. They were important power players—not just in D.C. but in the entire country—and most of them had been at my mother’s birthday party only an hour ago. In fact, they were the exact ones who had notably vanished from the celebration, leading to Marissa’s complaint about how boring it had become.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
I whipped my head around. A waitress in a short black dress was staring at me, eyes wide behind her mask.
“You’re bleeding,” she went on, lowering her gaze to my right arm.
I looked down. She was right. I must’ve grazed myself when I fell in the tunnel earlier.
“I, uh… I fell over outside,” I replied.
She smiled. “Those passages can be so treacherous sometimes. Let me help.”
She led me over to a large bar on one side of the enormous room. “I would normally tell you to go to the medical center, but that room is in use at the moment,” she said in an apologetic tone as she rummaged behind the bar. “Luckily, we have a few things behind here in case of any minor accidents.”
This place had a medical center?
I shook my head mutely, still trying to comprehend the bizarre situation I’d found myself in.
“Here we go.” The waitress stood up straight and handed me some adhesive bandages and a little bottle of antiseptic liquid. “That should be enough to get you cleaned up.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“You know where the restrooms are, of course,” she said, nodding somewhere over my shoulder.
“Yes,” I replied, still not wanting to admit I didn’t belong here. I’d obviously wandered into some sort of secret lair, and I’d seen enough thriller movies to know that interlopers in such places were always thrown out on their asses as soon as they were caught.
Or worse.
Figuring the waitress had more than likely nodded toward the main entryway, I quietly left the room and headed back into the foyer. After hesitating for a moment, I stepped through the next arched doorway.
The hall was lined with the same checkered black and white marble tiles that lay in the foyer. Several doors lay open on either side of the wide passage, and I peeked into each one on my way through. The rooms beyond looked like private lounges with damask wallpaper, plush carpet, and expensive furniture sitting in front of fireplaces. Each room also featured a large wall carving—the same triangle and eye symbol I’d seen out in the tunnels.
A plaintive cry echoed down the hall, and my eyes widened with shock. I crept forward and peeked through the next door.
This room was different. While it featured the same charcoal-gray and gold patterned wallpaper and expensive furniture as the others, it also contained three adjustable hospital beds, IV stands with saline bags, heart monitors, and rolling tables covered with medical gear. Another wide door at the back led to what appeared to be a surgical suite.
A young woman sat on one of the beds, her face contorted with agony. A tall man in scrubs rubbed her sweat-drenched hair in a soothing gesture. “You’re going to be fine, Angela. It might not seem like it, but this is the safest place in the world to give birth. Dr. Hansen and Dr. Keating are the very best obstetricians in the country, the nursing staff are the cream of the crop, and the equipment is all state of the art.”
“It fucking hurts!”
“I know. It will be over soon, and it will all be worth it for your future.”
“It better be.” The woman winced and groaned again.
The man turned slightly to the left to nod at one of
the nurses. She flipped through some papers on a clipboard before handing it to him. With a start, I realized who he was. Chuck Thorne. Logan’s father.
I could’ve sworn he was still at the party when I sneaked out earlier, but it was definitely him. I’d recognize that arrogant chin, hooked nose, and swept-back dark hair anywhere.
I closed my eyes and shrank back slightly, certain I was dreaming. This place was already crazy enough from what I’d seen so far, and now Chuck Thorne was here assisting in a birth? No way…
This isn’t real. I hit my head in the tunnel and now I’m seeing things, I told myself, taking a deep breath. When I opened my eyes, I was sure I’d snap out of the dreamlike state and find myself back in the cold darkness, but everything was still the same.
“Let’s go over the paperwork again, before you have another contraction,” Chuck said, handing the clipboard to the heavily-pregnant woman. “I want to know you’re sure.”
She waved him away. “I read it five times and I have a degree in contract law. I’m sure.” She gritted her teeth and went on. “If I don’t get what I want, you’re on the hook for five million dollars.”
Chuck nodded. “That’s right. But don’t worry, Angela. Your career path is set in stone now that you’ve signed. You’ll get everything you want.”
The woman closed her eyes and let out another wail. One of the doctors stepped over to her with a syringe, and the other glanced toward the door, seemingly sensing my presence. I shrank back even farther into the hall, but it was too late. She’d spotted me.
She strode over and glared at me. “What the hell are you doing in this wing?” she asked. “You should be at the party, not lurking around here like some sort of perverted voyeur. This woman is giving birth! Have some respect.”
“I…”
“God, Amy, how much have you had to drink tonight?” she went on, narrowing her eyes as she took in my messy hair and rumpled dress.
With a jolt, I realized who she thought I was—Amy Kensington. She was the twenty-five-year-old daughter of the current US Secretary of State, and like me, she was tall with long auburn hair.
