Reaching through the bookshelf, I gently tap on the expensive wooden backing and listen to its sound. It’s definitely hollow on the opposite side, and just like in the movies, I start pulling on the ornaments and sculptures until I can finally figure it out. “Here,” I tell Marcus as he stands across the big office, searching behind the mahogany desk. “It’s behind here. I just can’t work out how to open it.”
Marcus rushes over and examines the bookshelf with a trained eye, but a gold skull catches mine. Everything else on the shelf is old school, but this is new and shiny, and it definitely doesn’t fit with the rest of the office. Reaching through, I curl my fingers around the skull and try to move it. It’s stuck to the shelf, so instead of tearing the fucker right off, I try twisting, and after turning it just enough that the skull faces the massive window overlooking the manicured gardens, the whole bookshelf falls back.
“What the fuck?” I breathe, my eyes wide as I look over it.
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Marcus says, quickly glancing my way with an arched brow, most likely wondering what hidden rooms have been waiting to be discovered in his family home all these years.
Not wasting any more time, Marcus grips the heavy wooden shelf and pushes it back inside the wall. A loud click sounds through the office, and I hear the faint echo on the other side. With the shelf clicked back into place, it slides effortlessly, and a small walkway appears before us.
As if knowing that there’s no way in hell that I’ll be going first, Marcus steps into the dark walkway and I follow closely behind him, not liking the look of this at all.
A set of stairs leads down into the darkness and everything inside of me screams for me to not go down there. I’ve done the whole dungeon cell thing before and it’s really not my jam. There’s only a sliver of light shining past the bookshelf, but beyond that, there’s nothing.
Going against every cell in my body, I move forward, following Marcus into the unknown, and letting my fingers drag along the wall to guide me down the concrete stairs. It smells, but it doesn’t hold the same pungent stench as Giovanni’s basement. This is more like a damp room that hasn’t seen the light of day for years, plus there’s a heavy scent of sex in the air that has my chest tightening with unease.
My fingers brush over something on the wall and I double back, making Marcus pause to watch me over his shoulder. Feeling a switch beneath my fingertip, uncertainty settles through me. This switch could be for anything, but there’s also a good chance that it’s a light.
My face twists with a cringe but the chances of finding Ariana down here without a light is next to none. Letting out a shaky breath, I flip the switch and a dull light spreads through the underground cell and settles the unease pulsing through my stomach.
Marcus sails down the rest of the steps and I quickly follow behind. We hit the bottom, and just as we turn a corner into a wide concrete cell, a metal pole comes hurtling toward Marcus’ head. His hand snaps up with quick reflexes and catches the pole just moments before it would’ve cracked his skull.
“Marc?” Ariana breathes, her eyes wide as her chest rises and falls with quick, panicked movements, assuming we had been Phillip coming back for more.
“Fuck,” Marcus says, throwing the metal pole aside as Ariana drops to the dirty ground, grazing her knees as she begins to sob into her hands, the relief overwhelming her system.
“What in the ever-loving fuck is this?” I ask, glancing past her into the fucked-up little room where Phillip has been keeping her. It’s set up like an old home from the seventies. An old metal frame bed with a flower duvet. There’s even an old-fashioned nightstand with a lamp, which I’m assuming doesn’t work. A small bathroom that offers no privacy and no shower. There’s even a fully stocked dresser with old brushes, hair curlers, and makeup.
Marcus scoffs, kicking the metal pole and sending it halfway across the room. “Apparently, Phillip has some mommy issues,” he mutters as Ariana takes a deep breath and tries to pull herself together.
“Yeah, they’re not his only issues,” I tell him, reaching down to Ariana and grabbing her arm, trying to be gentle, but it’s not like we have all day. “Come on. We need to go.”
I tug hard and am met with resistance as Ariana cries out. “Fucking hell. Stop. Do you think I’m just sitting down here like some fucking damsel waiting for some bitch to come and save me?” she spits, reminding me that she’s not just the woman who saved me from Phillip, but also the woman who set me up with Lucas Miller to be tortured and murdered. “I’m chained.”
My gaze drops and I cringe, finding the ankle cuff and heavy chain that’s bolted to the wall by her bed, giving her just enough space to get around her room, but not giving her the chance to get anywhere near the stairs. “Shit,” I grunt, looking around the room for some kind of way to free her. I should have noticed the chain before, but I was too distracted by the hell hole she’s been living in.
I’m busy searching when Marcus pulls the gun from the waistband of his jeans. “Do you trust me?” he asks Ariana.
Her eyes bug out of her head, reading his intentions and gaping at him as though he’s lost his fucking mind. “Do I trust you?” she shrieks, panic taking over as she holds up her hand that has the angry scarring from when Marcus pinned her to her front door with a knife. “That’s a joke, right?”
Marcus rolls his eyes, not really down for her dramatics after the day he’s had. “What else do you suggest?” he demands, arching a brow at her. “I can either shoot the chains off and hope to fucking God that the bullet doesn’t ricochet and kill me, or I can fucking leave you here. Worst case scenario, I miss and you get a fucking hole in your foot, best case, you get to see the fucking light of day and walk free. Take your pick.”
Ariana quickly shoots her gaze toward me, silently questioning if she should trust him, and I shrug my shoulders. “He managed to pin your hand to the door with that knife from thirty feet away without skipping a damn beat. He’s your best option … your only option.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she mutters before bringing her foot forward and looking away.
BANG!
Marcus shoots before Ariana’s head has even completely turned away, and I stare in shock. I’d expected a countdown or something like that, but no, he didn’t even give her the consideration of aiming first. Just shot like there were absolutely no consequences. But when it comes to Marcus DeAngelis, there rarely are, and that’s proven a moment later when the chain snaps under the bullet’s pressure and falls aside.
I suck in a loud gasp as Ariana screams. Her head instantly whips down to her ankle, finding the cuff still tight around her skin but free of her chain. “Fuck,” she breathes wide-eyed.
“Let’s go,” he snaps, not giving her a moment to catch her breath.
He grips my hand and drags me back to the stairs, not giving a shit if she follows or not, but she’s not stupid. She knows an opportunity like this will never come again. She trails behind us, sticking right on my heels in her desperation to get out.
As we reach the top of the stairs and walk back out into the big office, I find myself pulling back on his hand. “Hey,” I say, stopping him in his tracks as Ariana steps around us, hovering close. Marcus looks back at me, his dark eyes meeting mine with hurt. “Are we okay?”