Blood Torn (Blackthorn Book 3) Page 20

  She reached down to the heel of her boot, where her folded blade was concealed in the opposite heel to the pins. It might have been small but it was effective. Right angle, right force, right place and he’d be gone.

  She’d return to The Alliance not only as their ultimate weapon, but with one underworld leader down and only two to go. She’d like to see Abby’s face then.

  But as she looked across at him sat silently beside her – those beautiful azure eyes locked on the demolition site ahead, that stunning profile, that body that had made her feel like no one else had, that mind which seemed to somehow tune seamlessly into hers – she wavered again.

  The reminder, the truth of what a monster he was, was exactly what she needed to make her plans easier.

  ‘So you meant it when you said you murdered your mate? You weren’t just saying it?’

  He met her gaze, albeit fleetingly. He knocked back the remains of his beer. ‘Why?’ he asked, returning his gaze ahead.

  ‘Did she do something wrong?’

  ‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘She made a mistake wanting to be with me.’

  She placed her numb hands flat against the cold, stone ground. ‘How did you kill her?’

  ‘In a blood bath,’ he said. ‘More blood than I’ve ever seen.’

  She studied his eyes to try and work out if it was a wind-up – but the eyes that glanced back at her emanated nothing but truth.

  ‘Did she betray you in some way?’

  ‘She would never have betrayed me.’ He moved to stand. ‘Ever.’

  But she caught his forearm, her fingers barely reaching either side, reminding her how badly a one-on-one battle could end for her.

  ‘Then why?’ she asked.

  ‘Why are you so interested?’

  ‘Who wouldn’t be? An alpha murdering his mate – it’s not exactly commonplace, is it? You’re supposed to be the most loyal of all your species.’

  ‘According to the rumours?’ He pulled his arm free and stood. But instead of walking away he turned to face her. ‘Your kind knows nothing. Nothing about us. Nothing about the truth. You and your Summerton education. You’ve no sense of the real world, just like the rest of them, serryn or not.’

  She stood up, needing to be as close to eye level as she could. But she kept the wall behind her for balance. ‘Don’t patronise me, Jask. I’ve lived here long enough. I’ve seen what it’s like.’

  ‘Really? And yet you still justify your actions.’

  ‘I can justify them because of what I’ve seen.’

  ‘Because of what your kind has created. You think you know what it’s like because you choose to live within these boundaries? Take a look around – a real look around at this so-called temporary measure. This was never going to be anything other than one giant experimental pod; one third-species-sized rat maze. They created this to make us implode – to make us exactly what they want us to be. Like a caged animal in a zoo being prodded with a stick, they stand back and justify how aggressive we are so they can give cause to keeping us contained. And then you come into the mix. You’re not even one of them. You talk about my kind being some kind of half-breed – what are you? Human with extra skills? No, you’re nothing but the second species to them. And when they’ve finally found a good enough reason to wipe us off the earth, they’ll start on you. For as long as your kind are in charge, we’re all fucked.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ she said, the breeze blowing against her already chilled skin. ‘It was your kind that upset the balance by coming out in the first place. We contain you because we’re the best species on this planet at self-preservation – and we will win in the end.’

  He stepped up to her, pressed his hand to her shoulder, trapping her against the wall. ‘Is that right?’

  She held his gaze as he slipped his hand between her arm and her side, sliding his fingers down her ribcage, finding the soft flesh that would give him the easiest upward thrust to her heart.

  ‘Like now?’ he asked. ‘Your arrogance, your need to be right, your need to justify your actions pressing you that one step further with a species already about to snap? Do you know how easily I could tear your heart out from you right now if I chose to?’

  Her breath hitched, the feel of his now lethally extended talons digging into her flesh through her tunic. ‘You need me,’ she said, searching for a reason for him not to, for one moment believing, really believing, him capable.

  He slid his hand up her abdomen, over her breast to her throat, his thumb pressing her chin up so she was forced to look him deep in the eyes. ‘Keep reminding me of that,’ he said.

  She subtly slid her leg up the wall, her hand ready to meet her heel as he glided his thumb along her jaw line, his gaze not flinching from hers.

  ‘And I’ll remind you that if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead,’ he said, ‘whether I need you or not.’

  She slid her fingers over her heel, pressing on the ball of her feet to create enough of a gap behind it that she could slide the hidden encasement open.

  ‘But you are going to work for me,’ he added.

  ‘And then you’ll kill me anyway, right?’

  He slid his hand gently down her throat. ‘I’d advise that whatever weapon you’re reaching for right now, that you don’t.’ The breeze blew lightly through his hair, a sharp contrast to the steadiness of his gaze. ‘Unless you want me to show you just how feral I can be.’

  Her fingers halted on her half-open heel. Only now she realised her hand wasn’t just trembling, it was shaking.

  The battle drums of Blackthorn’s hub now seemed a painfully long way away. Everything felt a painfully long way away, alone there, trapped between the fence and the wall, in the dark with the lycan who stared coolly back at her.

  ‘In fact, I’ll show you exactly what untamed is,’ he said, his lips dangerously close to hers. ‘Unless you hand it over.’

  Less than a few hours before, she would have looked him straight in the eye and defied him. And had absolutely no doubt she would have paid the consequences. Badly.

  Just as there was a time when she would have taken a punt and tried to ram that blade into his throat regardless.

  A time when she thought she had nothing to lose. When she despised herself enough not to care about the consequences.

  But she learned one quietly terrifying thing in that moment: she needed to live. What she did at that moment, the decision she made, mattered – not just for her, but for those she had left to care about.

  Intentionally or unintentionally, Jask Tao had tamed her in some way. But she’d be damned if she’d let him know.

  And there was absolutely no way she was sticking around now to give him long enough to find out.

  She removed the small blade from her heel, keeping her breathing as controlled as she could as she placed it in his open palm. ‘Another time,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

  Jask held her gaze for a moment longer before he backed away, walked away, without another word.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Just as Rone had promised, the trapdoor in the greenhouse was unlocked.

  Inside was silent. Even the water sprays had ceased for the night.

  Lifting the trapdoor, Sophia stared down the wooden slatted steps into the darkness. Hesitation cost time, and time was something she didn’t have.

  Collecting the torch Rone had left her amongst the shrubbery – a diver’s torch in preparation for its task – she took the first two steps down. She shone the light around the depths, the vast space having far too many objects for there not to be the potential for something to be hiding behind them. Keeping watchful, she reached up to close the trapdoor behind her, sealing herself in the darkness. It was quiet enough down there to hear a page turn, her only comfort the beam of light – but even that could only ignite one corner at a time.

  She sat on the bottom step and collected the taped-up plastic bag that contained dry clothes and, hopefully, the map out of ther
e. It also had a cord, clearly so she could attach the bag to herself whilst she swam. Next to it was a knife. She pulled the heavy blade out of its encasement, the impressively sharp edge now jutting 180 degrees. Rone sure knew how to pick his weapons.

  Shining the beam back around the room, she rested it on the door ahead – the entrance point to the tunnel.

  She made her way over, sending the occasional wary glance over each shoulder. She should have been used to the dark, but there was no denying it was an inherent fear no matter how accustomed she was to it.

  She unbolted the door and reached for the key on the hook beside it. The internal lock mechanism giving way echoed in the silence, momentarily overwhelming the blood pounding in her ears. Fortunately, the door opened silently.

  She shone the torch into further darkness.

  It looked like nothing more than a tunnel through rock but then, from what Rone had told her, that’s exactly what it was.

  She stepped into the dense chill. Closing the door behind her, she stood for a moment, her breathing ragged.

  ‘Come on, Phia,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve been in darker places than this.’

  She held the torch beam ahead.

  The tunnel was no wider than four feet, no higher than seven.

  ‘Single-file only,’ she whispered again, muttering to herself as she always had when she was frightened as a child.

  The temptation to leave the door open behind was immense. But she did what Rone had instructed. She locked the door behind her and slid the key back through the tiny gap at the floor.

  ‘No going back,’ she muttered as she replaced the torch with the knife, ensuring she held the weapon in her best hand, the ray of light in the other, the plastic bag tucked under that arm.

  And she took her first step forward.

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about until you get to the other side of the water,’ she whispered, putting one foot in front of the other. ‘They don’t come this way. Nothing comes this way. Twenty minutes, that’s all. Just twenty minutes to the lagoon.’

  She picked up pace, the beam allowing her to see at least thirty feet ahead.

  At least there were no corners at that part, not for a good way in.

  She swallowed hard against her arid throat. ‘You’re made of stronger stuff than this, Phia McKay. Much stronger.’

  Keep it going. Keep it going. Only now she said it silently in her head, anxiety muting her speech.

  The torch indicated she was veering right and before long she was veering left.

  One way in. One way out. And nowhere to hide should something come the other way.

  But nothing was going to come the other way. Rone had assured her there was minimal risk until she got beyond the water.

  She picked up pace, striding ahead as fast as she could, the distance she needed to cover passing too slowly.

  Five minutes. Ten minutes. Approaching fifteen at least.

  As the tunnel became more twisted, she slowed down a little for fear of knocking herself out cold on a wall, before it opened up again. The walls spread, the ceiling now beyond her reach.

  But she kept her pace steady. She ploughed forward, the beam bouncing off the walls, off the floor.

  Until there was only a wall straight ahead, nothing but rock beneath.

  No more tunnel. And no lagoon.

  Her stomach clenched. She came to a standstill.

  It was a dead end.

  She shone the beam around more erratically for a smaller opening. Nothing but rock. Nothing but rock and a locked door behind her.

  He’d tricked her. Rone had tricked her. The double-crossing…

  She growled under her breath, kicked a rock against the wall ahead and turned away just as she heard the plop.

  She spun back around.

  Ripples spanned the small pool ahead – a pool that had been so perfectly still, it had been nothing but a mirror to the rocks around it.

  Sophia warily stepped closer as the water began to still again – water that seamlessly reached the rock’s edge.

  Her dark and cold abyss of a way out.

  Her heart leapt.

  Dropping the bag, knife and torch to the floor beside her, she untied and slipped off her boots before sitting cross-legged at the water’s edge. She stared down into the darkness, her heart pounding, her hands coiled around the rock. She closed her eyes, muttering to herself as she psyched herself up.

  Opening her eyes again, she grabbed the plastic bag and used the cord to tie it around the small of her back. She eased herself from the edge into the cold water, shivers shimmying up through her body.

  Once submerged to mid-waist, she grabbed the torch and, most importantly, the knife.

  She mouthed from one to three, and slipped into the darkness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  As soon as the cold water enveloped her, she knew there was no going back.

  Eyes wide open, she held her torch ahead as steadily as she could whilst clumsily pushing herself through the water in moves that were too erratic and energy-draining in their urgency.

  She kept veering ahead as Rone had told her. But having suspected he had betrayed her once, the paranoia was now at the forefront of her mind that she’d hit a dead end – that the air pockets were a lie. She’d know in her final seconds that he’d got one over on her, his problem solved.

  She couldn’t expect anything less, and had been naïve not to consider it before. She’d threatened him. She’d threatened to expose him, and subsequently he’d made up some lie about her being able to get out of there to be rid of her.

  But she’d taken the only chance she could. If she didn’t get out of there, if she couldn’t save her sisters, The Alliance, then she may as well drown.

  The pain started to consume her chest at the lack of oxygen, the light-headedness kicking in, her body taking over her mind as it punched her into accepting she needed oxygen.

  She kicked harder, knowing the panic that consumed her was not going to help.

  Rone had said it was at the midway point.

  She kicked to the surface of the darkness, slamming the back of her hand up through the water, the panic taking holding as she hit rock every time.

  She clutched the knife tighter, fearful of dropping it – fearful of never getting out of the tunnel without it, even if she did get to the other side of the lagoon.

  She kept slamming her hand above her head, kept finding rock, her whole body starting to jerk in desperation for air.

  She slammed her hand upwards again, but this time broke into cold air.

  She pushed her head above the surface, and took the deepest and most desperate breath she had since that day in the lake.

  She pressed her torch-holding hand to the rock as she used it to help balance herself, to curb the panic as her legs kicked erratically beneath the surface.

  Regaining her senses, she took in the small dome in the rock – the small crevice providing air from somewhere. But the regular supply didn’t mean she could stay there, even if the thought did cross her mind for a split second. Her body would freeze, her stationary position already evoking blood supply stagnation further than in just her extremities.

  She needed to get back into the darkness, back into the cold depths and face the final twenty feet.

  She closed her eyes, took as many deep breaths as she could.

  And pushed herself back under the water.

  The second part was more difficult – her body working less fluidly. She knew she couldn’t hold her breath as long the second time, already tiring quickly, the extra effort to make her body move consuming more energy.

  But she kept the torch ahead, kept veering right just as Rone had told her, pushing through the water, her legs exerting themselves to keep her momentum going.

  When she suddenly hit rock, her knuckles scraping against the stone, she took in a mouthful of water in her panic.

  But her instinct was to swim upwards.

  She kicked ha
rd, sliding up the wall, seeming to get nowhere until suddenly her head pushed through the surface water into the darkness of a tunnel.

  She swam forward, dropping the knife and torch onto the side of the rock. She coughed and caught her breath, her forearms pressed down onto the hard edge.

  It took her three attempts before she was able to lever herself out. Even then she could only manage to flop onto her side before rolling onto her stomach. She buried her head in her forearm before her survival instincts kicked in; before she reminded herself to tune into the potential threat of her surroundings.

  She grabbed her torch and shone it into the darkness ahead.

  There was no sound and no movement.

  Rone had explained that most wouldn’t venture down that part of the tunnel. Territory ruled just as much down there as it did on the surface. But she couldn’t count on it and she certainly couldn’t risk taking a wrong turn.

  Shivering, she eased onto her knees and unfastened the cord around her waist. She ripped open the waterproof bag and took out the dry tunic and the map, a light pair of ballet-style shoes hitting the floor.

  She angled the torch so it remained down the tunnel as she hurriedly tore off the sodden tunic clinging to her wet skin. The friction was painful as she drew it over her numbing flesh before casting it aside.

  She slipped on the fresh tunic, too big for her, but that was probably better out there on the streets where she was going.

  She waited for her feet to dry as she grabbed the torch again and studied the map.

  There was no way she’d memorise it. This required her keeping it open at all times.

  She slipped on the ballet shoes and stood up, leaving everything else behind – everything but the torch, the map and the knife.

  The first part of the map said straight ahead for at least fifty feet, ignoring every turn off to the left, each of those branching out elsewhere. She prepared herself for the worst as she pressed on ahead, even her quiet footsteps painfully conspicuous in the silence of the tunnel.