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I follow the same routine I have been any chance I’ve had a minute of spare time.
Drive to the casino, stand outside and watch, light up a smoke, and wait.
I haven’t told anyone I’ve been back. I leave when everyone is asleep or wait till I’m already out running bullshit errands, but something about tonight just feels different. It’s almost like her essence is drifting from the basement, up the stairs, down the hall, all the way out the front doors, and hitting me in my face.
I can feel her—smell her. I need her.
I light my cigarette and inhale a slow puff. I’ve never been a smoker, but that’s changed. No one ever seems to question anyone stepping outside for a smoke, so I’ve used it as an excuse to be lurking around, but now it’s a need. The nicotine keeps me calm.
I pull my phone out and check it. Nothing from Lucas or Ilya. I roll my eyes and shove it back into my pocket.
Fuck them.
I take one last drag of my cigarette, then throw it on the ground and snub it out with my foot. When I look back up, I see Emil with the same scrawny guy from the other day exiting. It’s like fucking clockwork with them, always coming and going at the same times throughout the day. At least from what I’ve noticed.
I haven’t been lucky enough to get back into the basement yet, but it won’t stop me from trying. When I see them both slide into their car, I button the bottom of my jacket and shake out my shoulders. “Showtime.”
I walk across the parking lot and into the casino. I keep my head down and dodge all of the cocktail waitresses who may recognize me from plowing into their pussies. I make it to the hallway without hassle and follow it.
One foot in front of the other, I keep walking until I make it to the stairwell. I open the door and head down. Soft footsteps sound out behind me, so I slow my pace and act like I’m checking my phone. When a man passes me, I let him take a few steps before I follow. He makes it to the final door before me, so I stop and look over his shoulder as he punches in a code.
2161
The door clicks softly, signaling the lock is disengaged, and he steps in, holding the door open for me. What a dumbass. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t stop to look at me, nothing. He just holds the door open for me, then disappears into the dark hall to the right.
I glance around and study the place the same way I did the first time I saw it. Everything seems the same, darker, but the same. I start down the right hall and don’t stop until I’m at the last door. When I look through the crack between the frame and wall, I see the same blonde draped in a low blue light that only hits the bed.
Instantly, my anger flares. She’s bound by her wrist and ankles with rope that is practically burning her. I turn the knob and push open the door, surprised there is no resistance. As I walk further into the room, her naked body starts to thrash on the bed.
Muffled screams sound out around the gag in her mouth. I step even closer and bring my finger to my lips. “Shh.” When her eyes meet mine, her body stops moving. “I’m going to take this off, but you can’t scream. I’m here to help, okay?”
Her head nods vigorously as tears form in her blue orbs.
I tug the gag down, letting my fingers brush her cheek, down to her chin. “What’s your name?”
“Cat,” she rasps.
“Cat.” I nod. “I’m going to get you out of here—”
I’m cut off by the knob of the door turning again. Fuck.
“I’ll be back for you.”
“No. No. No!” she screams as I move the gag back to her mouth. “Don’t you fucking leave me, please!” Her teeth catch my pointer finger as I try to stuff the gag back in her mouth.
“Fuck!” I jerk my hand back, then use the other to force the gag back into her mouth. I inhale deep through my nose. “I’ll be back,” I whisper as the door opens.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” a fat-bellied man asks as I stumble away from the bed.
“I—” I hiccup. “Just looking.” I slur my words.
His lip curls as he grabs me by my suit jacket and pushes me out of the room. “Get the fuck out of here with your drunk ass. I paid, so it’s my turn.”
I hold up my hands and sway on my feet as he slams the door in my face.
I pace in front of the door for a moment, debating on busting back inside and taking Cat like I should have in the first place, but I can’t. It would be stupid—a death sentence. I’m armed, but I’m alone, and unfortunately, numbers matter.
I try to think of something—anything—I can do to get her out and come up blank. I need fucking Lucas, but he’s too busy with Charlie to even care. I love Charlie, I do, but he knows damn well nothing will happen to her. Between me, him, and Carl, she’s completely covered. Cat isn’t.
