Page 8 of Darkest Descent

And when I found him in the middle of the room and his warm arms wrapped around me, I let it all wash over me. Burying my face into his neck, I let the tears flow free.

He hushed me, stroked my hair, and I did the same for him. Wiping the tears from his cheeks, blindly finding them in the dark, and whispering words meant to bolster, bring hope. Hope I didn’t believe in, but enough for him. His breathing slowed and his grip on me softened. He was my twin. We shared a womb. There was nothing more comforting than the way he smelled, the rumble of his voice, the beat of his heart. It was home.

At some point, we both fell asleep again, curled up together on the cold floor of our kidnapper’s dungeon.

“Alice,” Asher’s voice woke me and for the tiniest moment, I’d forgotten everything. “There’s food.”

The light was on now, and as I blinked life back into my eyes, my vision settled on Asher, sitting beside me with two plates of food in front of him. He was inspecting it, a frown on his face.

Fuck. We were still here. It wasn’t a fucking nightmare concocted by my worst thoughts. I had to take a few steadying breaths to stave off a panic attack as everything came rushing back like a damn tsunami of despair. Kidnapped. The kiss. Hunter. Asher’s injured face.

I sat up, calming the racing in my veins and trying to ignore the imposing walls. It felt too close, like we were going to suffocate. There was no fresh air, no breeze or flow at all. Just dank. Stifling.

“Al.” Asher’s hand settled on the base of my spine, bringing me back to him. “Eat. I don’t think he’d have poisoned anything. What would be the point?”

My lips pursed at the idea, almost wishing for poison. I dreaded the thought of what he had planned next. That kiss he forced, the way he took his pleasure out on Asher’s crying face… the damn look in his eye when he drifted off to imagine what was coming for us. Cyanide would be better than that shit.

“This looks terrible,” I said, picking up the congealed grilled cheese and biting the corner. “The fucker for sure doesn’t have a chef up there.”

Asher didn’t respond, only shook his head.

We ate in silence, guzzled the bottles of water down. The second I did, my bladder reminded me of the other horror to confront. The bucket in the corner. I stood, a grim expression on my face, and made my way over. Thank god it was my brother with me and not a stranger, not that this was the worst thing we were facing now. Just another humiliation.

“Turn around or something, please,” I asked Asher, motioning with my finger for him to shuffle. He did, rolling his eyes in a brief moment of normality that made me bite my lip.

I lifted the shirt up to squat when footsteps sounded just outside the door. Keys. The door opening. I caught a glimpse of stairs leading up, confirming my theory we were in a basement. Hunter strolling in, his mask gone. I gasped, surprised to see anything remotely human under there.

“Stop,” he said, almost sounding hurried.

“What?” I blurted, mid-squat.

“Stand.”

I took in his face, shocked at the sight of it. The bastard was handsome. Dark hair fell over his forehead, and despite harsh features, stubble and a frown, something about him was hard to look away from. My breaths came out in stutters. I didn’t recognize him, though there was something familiar. He’d been watching me. He must have been. In the background of my life. Why, then? Why this?

“I can see why you decided to hide that ugly mug from us,” I retorted, straightening myself up, unable to help myself. Asher sighed, standing up too, staying in the center of the room. Tension rolled off him. It rolled off all of us. Despite my fear, my instinct was to snip at our captor. I was curious about why he was showing us his face, but every idea I came up with didn’t bode well for our freedom, so I pushed my questionsaway.

But Hunter only shrugged and smirked. “I have a game to play today.”

“What?” I blurted, ignoring my bladder. Now was not the time.

Hunter glanced at me and pulled a knife from his pocket. His eyes darkened as he looked down my body, gaze trailing over my legs, to the bucket, and back.

“A game,” he repeated.

“Please…” Asher said, stepping forward, but the rope stopped him getting any closer to Hunter. “Let her go, at least. We can… I don’t know, work a deal out? Let my sister go.”

Hunter shook his head and took a step towards me. Something about him twisted me up inside. The knife in his hand wracked me with fear. The way the light glinted off it, the way he handled it with such comfort and ease. It reminded me of when he’d grabbed me off the street. Too competent, too scary. Like he wouldn’t hesitate to slit our throats and bask in our deaths. Danger rolled off him like smoke in a fire.

“What game?” I bit out, tensing my entire body, tilting my chin up. Determined. Fucking determined for them to not see my fear.

Hunter smiled something wicked. “Simple, really, do as I say, or your twin loses a limb.”

“Catchy.”

6

Asher

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