Page 152 of Hidden

“Happy now?” he muttered.

I lowered my eyes and nodded, letting my fingers curl tighter around the cup. “Thanks.”

Then, before I could lose my nerve, I tilted it slightly toward him.

He frowned. “What? Woman, you better hurry up and drink it before I lose the shred of patience I’ve got left and backhand you down the stairs back into the basement.”

An idea came to me.

“Is this a trick?” I asked, deliberately forcing a pleading tone into my voice.

“How the fuck can it be a trick? I’ve given you what you asked for.”

“Exactly. Not only was I able to leave the room down there, but I was able to creep around, come up here,andyou’re willing to indulge me by giving me water? I’m sure that’s disobeying a direct order from Nico. And…” I let my words trail away as I pretended to smother a sob.

“Oh, for fuck's sake. It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re thinking.” His words were spat at me, but one look at my face had him softening briefly. “Look. It’s not poisoned, Gabby. I’ve known you since you were a child. I offered to be the guard out here out of respect for your old man. You know what it’s like here. I’m loyal to my president, but that doesn’t erase years ofhistory. Watch me,” he said, pulling the cup from my hands and downing it in one gulp.

I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed the contaminated water, and then unscrewed his bottle to fill it back up for me.

“No poison, princess. Get a drink, and then go back to the basement before we’re both punished.”

I had to force myself not to visibly react as I accepted the cup and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. I sipped at the water, not wanting to risk there being any glass residue left, and then looked at him with a nod.

He jerked his chin toward the basement door. “Get back down there. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

I nodded again, and did as I was told, stepping back into the basement with the cup still in my hand and pulling the door closed quietly behind me. Only once it had shut properly did I let out the breath I had been holding.

My mum looked up at me from the mattress, her eyes searching my face. “What did you do?”

“Bought us some time,” I said, crouching down beside her and setting the cup aside.

She studied me for a moment, then nodded once, as though whatever she saw in my expression was explanation enough.

After that, there was nothing left to do but wait.

And waiting, it turned out, was worse than doing.

Every second dragged. Every sound from the other side of the door became impossible to ignore. The scrape of his chair. The occasional shift of his boots against the floorboards above us. I found myself listening to him breathe, listening for any change, any sign that what I had done was beginning to work.

At first, there was nothing.

Then came the cough.

It was small. Barely anything at all. Just a rough clearing of the throat that could have meant nothing if I hadn’t been listening for it.

I lifted my head.

Another cough followed a minute later, sharper this time, and then the scrape of the chair legs against the floor as he shifted in it.

Mum’s fingers found mine in the dark.

I squeezed back without taking my attention from the door.

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on forever, so long that I started to wonder if I had got it wrong, if I hadn’t given him enough, if I had risked everything for nothing at all.

And then I heard him spit.

A wet, ugly sound, followed by a muttered curse.