Page 131 of House of Lies

Where the hell am I?

When I try to wriggle my bare feet to get some feeling back in them, I feel grit under my toes. The air is cold and clammy. It smells like damp cardboard, old books, and moldy carpets.

Light comes from a few sconces against the rough, gray brick wall. Dark shapes lurk in the shadows between those soft, orange pools of light.

I blink, trying to focus my eyes, and my gaze reluctantly sharpens. There’s another painful ache in my temples, but I ignore it.

The shapes appear to be boxes. Maybe even furniture draped with dust covers.

If I hadn’t already been to Ethan’s basement at Glenmont Manor, I might have thought that’s where I am. But that vast room was neatly organized and well lit. This looks like a hoarder’s secret lair.

There’s a scrape behind me, and I stiffen in panic. Footsteps crunch over the ground, coming closer. My hands tighten into fists, but even if I wanted to, there’s no way I can defend myself tied up like this.

Something brushes against my hair, then down my neck, making me shudder with revulsion as memories flood my mind.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” I yell hoarsely, pulling away. I yank at my bonds, gritting my teeth with frustration as they refuse to give.

“I can do whatever the hell I want to you,” Angelo says as he steps into view. He’s still wearing the same clothes, as am I.

Thank God.

Then I see that he’s wearing blue latex gloves and holding a knife. Something big, slightly curved, serrated.

A hunting knife?

Oh dear God.

I try not to let my sudden terror show, but I can’t seem to stop shaking, and it has nothing to do with the clammy air.

“Where am I?” I blurt out.

Angelo smiles ruefully. “Somewhere no one will think to look, until it’s too late.”

“I told Ethan I was meeting with you,” I lie. “He’ll be looking for me.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Angelo crouches in front of me, hands on my thighs, the point of the knife snagging against my dress. I hold still, trying not to breathe in case that forces the tip of the blade through my belly. He doesn’t even seem to realize what he’s doing—he’s staring up at me with some strange, feverish light in his eyes.

“Ethan doesn’t scare me, sweetheart.”

“He’ll get Myles involved,” I say, desperately wishing my voice wasn’t trembling so much. “If he doesn’t scare you, then you’re a fucking moron.”

Angelo backhands me so hard I see stars. Pain flashes through my jaw and cheek, and I taste copper in my mouth.

Fuck!

I keep my head turned away, blinking back tears of pain and fright. But Angelo stands, grabs my hair, and forces me to look at him as he towers over me. My fingers and toes start prickling with the worst pins-and-needles I’ve ever felt.

That can’t be good.

“They’ll have to hurry,” Angelo says through a creepy as fuck smile. “I’ve already called the cops.”

I’m so fixated on Angelo’s psychotic eyes that I forget about the knife.

Until it sinks into my thigh.

“Fuck!”

The pain is excruciating.

---