Page 137 of Does It Hurt?


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“Rude,” she mutters, but otherwise, doesn’t have any further unnecessary commentary.

Refusing to believe that something can just vanish like that, I scout every inch of the kitchen and living room area. The rug and broken table are over the top of the cellar, so there aren’t very many places to hide, and within minutes, I’m forced to accept the fact that whatever was down here, isn’t anymore. At least not anywhere I can see.

I’m standing in the living room, glaring at the cold, dead fireplace, when Sawyer creeps in.

She looks around nervously, still on edge that the thing is going to come back.

Good chance it will, and I fucking hope it does. I’d love to see for myself if there really is an invisible spirit walking around, wreaking havoc on the place and our sanity.

“Uhh. You see that?” Sawyer asks, her spine straightening and all hesitance bleeding out in a matter of seconds. I follow her gaze, landing on the two bookshelves up against the wall opposite the couch.

One of them looks shifted. Not to the side, but at an angle.

As if it were a door.

Beelining toward them, I quickly order, “Grab the flashlights in the kitchen.”

She hurries off to get them, rejoining my side just as I start to tug at the crooked bookshelf. With little effort, it creaks open, sounding very similar to the noise we heard before we came down here.

Sawyer’s gasp is the only thing that can be heard now as we stare into a black abyss. The bookshelfisa fucking door, and behind it is a spiraling stone staircase.

“The beacon,” she whispers behind me, clicking on the flashlight and moving ahead of me.

“Sawyer, get behind me. You were scared not two seconds ago.”

She cuts a glare over her shoulder.

“I’m too excited now. So, youget behindme. Being a man doesn’t make you special. Last time I checked, I’m the murderer, not you.”

I raise my brows. “I’ll be happy to make it even,bella.”

She rolls her eyes, muttering “Men” derisively as she forges ahead. The corner of my lip curls, and I snatch the extra flashlight from her grip that she forgot to hand over, letting her go ahead.

She’s right. She doesn’t need me to save her, but that doesn’t mean I won’t protect her, and it sure as fuck doesn’t stop me from aiming the gun over her shoulder in case Sylvester pops out.

We both keep our steps light as we make our way up, spinning around the structure for what feels like forever. When she reaches the top, she pauses for a split second before she squeals with excitement.

“It’s the beacon!” she exclaims, though conscious enough to keep it quiet.

I step up into a small spherical area. It’s nearly all glass, with a door leading out to a railing that circles around the room. I catch sight of a metal ladder that must lead to the actual light above.

A wide grin spreads across Sawyer’s face, and she looks back at me with delight.

A control panel spans across half of the room. And on the far left side of it is a radio.

My first reaction is fury. It’s confirmation that Sylvester has been lying to us all along. Keeping us here purposely, imprisoning us.

And though he never said it aloud, I know without a shadow of a doubt that he did it because he’s a lonely, fucked-up man and wanted to keep Sawyer here.

“We can get out of here,” she breathes, her blue eyes alight with hope and excitement. Even in the dark, it shines brighter than the sleeping beacon.

She rushes to the panel, and just as I take a step toward her, there’s a slight shuffling sound from above. I freeze, listening intently while Sawyer presses buttons and tinkers with the radio. Lost in her eagerness, she hadn’t heard the noise.

“I think it works!” she squeals, and the low buzz of the radio follows shortly after.

However, I’m too focused on the growing disturbance from above.

“Sawyer,” I whisper sharply. She turns to me, her brows pinched with concern. Her mouth opens, readying to say something, but then there’s a slow drag across the ceiling.

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