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With one last lingering look, Amelia turned away and disappeared into the tunnel with Sheryl, leaving Finn alone in the cellar.
His mind was filled with a flurry of emotions. The kiss had meant so much to him. In a world that had constantly beaten him down, Finn realized that Amelia was the one person, the one thing in his life that was truly raising him up. The kiss had come out of nowhere. He didn't know what it meant for them. It could, after all, have been a goodbye. If that was it, then Finn was glad to have known that feeling just once.
Finn's mind then turned to what Amelia had told him before about "cursed days", about how she felt some days were an omen waiting to be fulfilled. He hoped she was wrong about that, and that this day would end in triumph, not death. Finn wondered if he had done the right thing, letting Amelia go. He couldn't protect her. But he had a duty to protect the innocent. That had to take president, even over his partner. He knew Amelia would have done the same.
Squaring his shoulders and surveying the dimly lit hallway before him. Finn could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, sharpening his senses and steeling his resolve. He had only felt experienced that feeling once before – the feeling of facing almost certain death in the line of duty – and it was when he saved Nancy Milligan from the serial killer Max Vilne back in the US. He had gotten lucky that time, but Finn felt in his bones that his luck had run out.
If it had, he'd still give it his best shot.
Taking a deep breath, Finn walked warily into the shadows, each step measured and deliberate. His keen eyes scanned every corner, searching for any sign of movement or threat. The air was heavy, laden with the scent of damp and decay, clinging to him like a shroud as he delved deeper into the labyrinth.
As he moved forward, Finn's thoughts raced, playing out countless scenarios in his mind. He knew that every second counted, that lives hung in the balance – including Amelia's. It was this knowledge that drove him onward, propelling him through the darkness with a single-minded determination. He would not let the women in that place face a terrible fate, not without a damned good fight.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Finn's boots made a soft crunching sound in the damp earth as he cautiously navigated the dimly lit underground cellar of St Martins Castle. The air was thick with the scent of mold and age, causing him to shiver involuntarily as memories of Amelia's fiery red hair and warm smile flashed through his mind. He clenched his fists at his sides, determination burning within him like a smoldering fire.
Images of the four dead women that had been found so far seared across his mind. He was going to do everything he could to make sure others weren't added to that grim tally.
"I'll find you," he whispered under his breath, his voice barely audible amid the distant dripping of water on stone.
As he pushed forward, the narrow tunnel opened up into a wider corridor lined with heavy wooden doors. His heart raced in anticipation; he could feel it deep in his bones that the captive women were close by. Easing open one of the doors just enough to peek inside, Finn strained to hear any telltale sounds of their presence.
"Is anyone there?" he whispered urgently, wincing as his voice seemed to echo throughout the chamber.
"Who's there?" came a trembling response from behind the nearest door.
"My name's Finn. I'm here to help you. Just stay calm and keep quiet, alright?" he replied, his eyes darting between the doors, trying to gauge where each voice was coming from. He looked at the keys in his hand that he had taken from one of the guards earlier.
"One of these has to fit."
Footsteps sounded.
"More footsteps?" Finn said to himself. "This place is busier than Times Square."
"Please hurry," another voice whispered, her fear palpable even through the hushed tones.
"Stay strong. I promise I'll get you out of here," he reassured them, his brows furrowing in concentration as he plotted their escape.
"Take a deep breath," he instructed them, his voice barely audible. "When this door is opened and I give the signal, we're going to move quickly and quietly. Stay close to me, and we'll make it out of here."
"Okay," came a unified chorus of whispers, their voices trembling with a mix of fear and hope.
"Alright, get ready," Finn said trying several keys in the door lock,
But it was too late.
The footsteps grew louder, causing Finn to snap out of his momentary reverie. He darted behind a stack of wooden crates, pressing his back against the rough surface as he watched four armed men escort three women bound in ropes up the dimly lit corridor. They never gave away Finn's presence, and that made it even more heartbreaking for Finn. He had to find a weapon if he was to have any chance.
"Keep it moving," one of the men growled, prodding one of the women with the barrel of his gun. She stumbled forward, her brown hair cascading over her face, but not enough to mask the tears in her eyes.
Finn's heart clenched at the sight of her, followed by a surge of adrenaline that propelled him into action. Keeping close to the shadows, he trailed the group as they ascended a secret staircase hidden behind an unassuming bookshelf. The narrow steps creaked under their weight, Finn wincing internally with each groan of aged wood.
At the top of the staircase, a lavishly decorated room awaited them, its walls adorned with ceremonial weapons and gleaming daggers. Several suits of antiquated suits of gleaming armor were stood alongside the walls and tapestries like ghostly sentinels. Finn slipped behind a large tapestry depicting a fierce battle scene, his eyes never leaving the women as they were pushed to the center of the room. Finn looked around at his options. He had to think fast.
At the head of the lush red room sat an old decrepit man with balding long white hair and a wispy white beard. He had a cane in his hand and looked like he was in his last years. But his eyes were dark and menacing.
"Boss, we've got 'em all except one," one of the armed men announced, a smug grin plastered on his face. “I think she's lost down here somewhere.”
