Page 32 of Lethal Truths

“Try again. Think, Mark,” he demand, wiggling the blade in his flesh a bit and relishing in his agonized sounds.

“Okay, okay, please!” he shouts. I arch a brow, pulling the weapon free. “Underground,” Mark rasps as the color drains spectacularly from his face. “Heather said s-something about a ritual chamber underground.”

I think on that for a moment, weighing his words and trying to find the heaviness of a lie. I don’t, though, so with a pleased nod, I say, “Thank you.” A moment later, I drive the blade through his neck, feeling the resistance when the tip buries into the dirt underneath him. It won’t be as slow a death as if I had gone for the heart, but he did call me crazy, after all. Consider this a punishment.

I wait until the light — and blood — has drained from Mark’s body, and then I stand, wipe my hands clean on my jeans, and turn right around. I dig out my phone and call Asher, giving him a general location and praying Mark wasn’t talking out of his ass. We still have to figure out where underground, but it gives us a starting point.

And with how bloodthirsty I feel without Prudence, I’m sure it won’t take too long to find her.

21

Prudence

I wake up freezing and sore.

What the hell happened and why are my shoulders screaming in agony? I try to roll them, to loosen some of the unbearable tension in the joints, only to realize I can’t move my arms. The last of my drowsiness bursts like a bubble, and I’m suddenly all too aware of what happened. Mark and Heather attacked me. Blinking through my terror, I glance down my body and then up, whimpering at what I find.

I’m held upright with rope around my wrists, keeping my arms in the world’s most uncomfortable position. I’m high enough that only my toes reach the cold cement floor beneath me, which has me spiraling with fear. One wrong move and I’ll put too much weight on my arms, likely pulling one or both shoulders right out of the socket.

What’s worse than my position is my lack of clothing.

My jeans and hoodie have been stripped from my body while I was out. I’m standing in my black bra and panties, all my scars on display. Creed has helped me to love my body again, to not feel so insecure about my battle wounds, but all the whispered words he’s given me fly away in a moment now. It’s one thing for my boyfriend to see me like this, but a stranger? Or Heather? All my old doubts and hatred about myself come roaring back until it’s all I can hear.

Stop it, Prudence. This is exactly what Heather wants.

As if thinking of the cunt summoned her, a rusty metal door to my left creaks open. The dim room illuminates for a brief moment, the lights beyond shining around the cramped, damp space. I really wish they hadn’t, though, because getting a good look at where I’m being held captive does not fill me with confidence. A moment later, Heather strolls in like a demented Barbie.

Her usually gorgeous, polished appearance is just off enough for her to look deranged. Rather than sleek and styled, her brunette shoulder cut looks greasy and knotted, like she hasn’t even brushed it in days. There are dark circles beneath her chocolate eyes, not a lick of makeup in sight, and her manicured nails are chipping like she’s been picking at the gel polish.

“Aren’t you a sight?” I deadpan, shifting on my toes and hissing when my right foot cramps.

Heather rolls her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ears as she stops just inches from me. “Yeah, well, between kidnapping you and running from your boyfriend, I haven’t had much time to pamper myself,” she snarks back. “But don’t worry, Prudence. I’ll be right as rain just as soon as I get this mess sorted out once and for all.”

I wiggle my fingers to get some feeling back into them. Doesn’t do much good, but I tried. “Or you could let me go and take a spa day? You look like shit,” I bite out.

Heather clicks her tongue at me, seemingly unaffected. “Mark’s dead,” she says out of the blue.

I furrow my brows, even as a pleased smile attempts to curl up my lips. Shit, I won’t be crying at his fucking funeral. “Oh? I’d give you my condolences, but honestly, I’m glad to hear it.”

That’s when she snaps, swinging her hand through the air and slapping the absolute shit out of me. My head cracks to the side from the impact. When I turn back to look at her, I spit out a wad of bloody spit. It doesn’t reach Heather, but it gets close enough to her shoes that she backs up a few steps.

“Did you think Creed and his psychotic, murderous mind would keep you safe? Or Griffin and his little notes?” Heather sneers. “Sorry to break it to ya, babe, but with or without them, you would have always ended up right here.”

“Notes?” I echo. It hits me a second later, and it feels like the rug has been ripped from under my feet. The notes I’ve been getting, the hints and warnings, it’s been Griffin this whole time. A weird warmth spreads in my chest, but I refuse to acknowledge it right now. Maybe later I can analyze why I feel almost… relieved to know that he’s been looking out for me despite what happened between us at that party. God, that feels like eons ago now.

Forcing myself to remain focused, I shove all thoughts of Griffin aside. “What’s the plan, Heather? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re making it up as you go, and it’s probably not going to work out so well for you,” I say. I shouldn’t egg her on, but it’s better to keep her talking, isn’t it? Because when she’s done, I’m not sure what’ll happen to me.

Heather flicks her eyes at me as she starts pacing the concrete. “The full moon is a few days out. For now, you wait here and wonder about your fate.” She breathes out an airy laugh, cutting a cruel smile at me. “I’ll let you in on a secret, though. You won’t be alive much longer.”

I swallow through my fear, not allowing even a hint of it to show on my face. “Why? If I’m going to die, at least tell me what it’s all been for.”

“And once you’re out of my goddamn hair, I’ll have Creed taken care of,” she continues, ignoring my question. “Your boy toy is a cold-blooded killer, and I have the proof. Mark’s murder was inevitable, but with Creed cleaning up that mess for me, it’s given me the perfect opportunity to check him off my list next.”

“Fuck you,” I seethe, swinging on my tiptoes, my wrists screaming in pain as the rope rubs into my skin.

“You have nothing left. No power here,” Heather explains with no small amount of victory in her slightly crazed brown eyes. “I’ve won. You might not be on your knees begging for mercy, but you will be, and all that matters is that I’m the one who’s going to deliver that final blow. And then I’ll send your psychotic lover back to the looney bin where he belongs, where he’ll stay for the rest of his life.“ She grins, quirking a brow at me. “You can die knowing that his fate won’t be much better.”

My chest squeezes tight at the thought of Creed suffering like that. He hasn’t told me too much about his past, but I know enough. Sending him back to the place that will be worse than death.

---