Page 100 of Cruel Riches

19

Alexis

Redand black spots appeared in my vision as terror rushed through me in violent waves. My knees buckled, and I wrapped my arms around my belly and lowered my head, every inch of me quaking.

“Please make it quick,” I murmured. I was too weak and exhausted to beg for my life anymore.

“Make what quick?” Nate cocked his head.

“You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?” I said, risking a short glance up at him. “Just make it quick. Please.”

“I’m not here to kill you,” he said in an acid tone. “I told you, it’ll be a long time until I’m done with you.”

I swallowed hard. “But… you just said that I’m done here.”

“Yeah. Here.” He lifted a hand and gestured around us. “The cops think the killer might be using the Blackthorne tunnels, so I need to move you.”

Relief flooded through me in waves, making me giddy. “Oh,” I whispered.

Nate dropped the bag he was holding and started pulling things out of it. A brush, wet wipes, makeup compact, mouthwash, clothes. Myclothes.

“I stopped at your dorm room to get these,” he said, tossing them to me. “Get dressed and clean yourself up. It’s daytime, so we might see people. I don’t want them getting suspicious.”

“Where are you taking me?”

His expression twisted and his eyes went dark. “Shut up and get dressed, Alexis.”

He spoke my name like it was the foulest curse word he could utter, and as he stared at me, there was a distinct hardness in his gaze. I couldn’t blame him. Last time he saw me, I faked a pregnancy and jammed a knife between his ribs.

With trembling hands, I pulled on the underwear, jeans, sweater, jacket, and shoes he’d brought me from my dorm. Then I used the wet wipes to clean the smudges of dirt and blood from my face, throat, and hands.

“Fix your hair,” Nate said, tossing the brush toward me.

I opened the compact mirror and winced at my haggard reflection. Then I grabbed the brush and tried to neaten my hair. It was coated with grime and grease from the two weeks I’d gone without washing it, and some of the knots were so bad that the brush wouldn’t go through them. All I could do was gather up the strands behind my head, twist it all into a semblance of a French knot at the nape of my neck, and smooth the top.

“I can’t make it look any better than this,” I said, looking up at Nate with wide, fearful eyes. I was worried he’d change his mind and slice my throat open instead of taking the risk of being seen with me in public looking like I’d just returned from a thousand-year war.

His lips flattened as he stared down at me. “It’s good enough,” he muttered. “We need to hurry.”

He unlocked the cell and pulled me out with one arm. The other was laden with the bag he’d brought today and the other ones he’d left yesterday before I stabbed him, including the torture kit.

“Wait here.” He let go of me for a few seconds so he could stoop down and go through the black knife roll.

I didn’t bother running, even though I was out of the cell. I was too weak from hunger and dehydration, and I knew I wouldn’t get far anyway. The wrought iron gate near the tunnel entrance was undoubtedly locked, and only Nate had a key.

If I went the other way, deeper into the pitch-dark tunnels, I’d get lost within minutes. From what Nate had told me, there were other gates in there anyway, put in by the bootleggers back in the 1920s to stop any intruders from getting through to rescue the imprisoned snitches.

Nate rose to his feet again, brandishing a small knife. He put his arm around me and slipped his hand under my jacket, holding the knife at the small of my back.

“If we see anyone while we’re outside, you need to stay quiet and act normal. If you scream or do anything else to draw attention, this knife goes in your spine. Got it?”

I nodded wordlessly, chin trembling.

When we reached the trapdoor at the end of the tunnel and stepped out into the light, my eyes began to water. It wasn’t sunny outside, but I was so used to being in the dark that even the bleak gray clouds in the sky were enough to irritate me.

“Are you fucking crying?” Nate growled against my ear. “I told you to act normal.”

“It’s the light,” I whispered, back going ramrod straight as the cold steel of the blade pressed against my skin. “It hurts.”

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