Page 88 of Tabitha

Even if I have to walk through hell to claim her.

So I sit and wait and trust that she will come back to me…because nothing else is acceptable.

And if anyone thinks to keep her from me, I will kill them.

* * *

TABITHA

Ifollow Banks through the whorehouse, not sure what to expect. I must say, I’m a little disappointed. It’s not the den of iniquity that I imagined. The place is relatively clean, the women are quiet and watchful. While they’re not being held by chains, I sense they’re imprisoned all the same.

Most of the girls are healthy, though a few of them carry bruises, their eyes dilated with drugs. Part of me wants to help them, but I quickly shrug it off.

They could just walk out the door and leave if they wanted.

I don’t have time for people who can’t help themselves.

River has to be my priority.

“You stashed River in a whorehouse?” Even though I know it wasn’t River’s choice, I’m still annoyed.

Banks just smirks, then opens the door to the basement and gestures for me to go first. The stairs are dark. Maybe I should be worried about being kidnapped or pushed, but I don’t hesitate to march down the steps. I’ve never been considered normal. I don’t have a fear response like others, not after what I survived. I focus on how to fix a situation rather than panic.

I glance around the basement, my heart skipping a beat…only for it to plummet when I don’t see any sign of River. Darkness threatens to swallow me as I search for bloodstains or signs of a struggle, but everything is neat as a pin. A few boxes are stacked in the corner, some junk clutters the shelves…and still no River.

I turn toward Banks, his amusement vanishing at whatever he sees on my face. Without a word, he opens the electrical panel on the wall, then enters a code. The shelving creaks as it slowly pops open to reveal a dark tunnel.

My stomach flutters wildly, and I realize that it’s hope.

Banks grabs two flashlights, passing one to me. We both step into the tunnel together, and I can’t help but admire his setup. “How clever! Most people expect men to disappear for hours inside a whorehouse. No one would ever question it.”

Amusement crinkles the corners of his eyes, but he doesn’t react otherwise. His strides are sure and confident, not hesitating to venture into the bowels of the earth. Though I know it’s my imagination, I swear I can feel the thousands of pounds of dirt and rock pressing down on me.

The tunnels slope away from the house, the temperatures dropping as we work our way deeper and deeper into the mountain. My pace slows as the tunnel changes from cement to dirt walls and wooden beams—the old mining shafts.

Moist dirt and rock fill my senses, and I’d swear I can even hear worms and bugs squirming in the black earth. I barely repress a shudder, the grip on my flashlight tightening, and I focus on getting to River.

There are so many mines that no one could document them all. Most of them were shut down or blocked or caved in over the years. The locals knew better than to use them. Anyone stupid enough to venture in them is usually never heard from again. They either get lost in the darkness or buried alive.

And they fucking left River down here.

It’s all I can do not to prod Banks to hurry his ass.

The mine splinters off into three different tunnels. While footprints lead in every direction, heavier traffic spears to the right. Banks heads left, and I find my pace slowing. I give my flashlight a speculative look, tempted to bash Banks over the back of his head, then search for River on my own.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Banks calls over his shoulder, not even slowing his pace.

I don’t pretend to not understand. “I don’t know. They tell me I have impulse control issues. I’m akill first and ask questions laterkind of girl.”

Banks shoots me a wary glance, maybe understanding for the first time that I’m not exactly sane. Instead of being freaked out by my confession, a speculative look enters his eyes. Before he has a chance to ask any questions, the tunnel narrows, and he comes to a stop.

That’s when I notice a section of the ground seems denser.

When I flash my light beam over that area, infinite darkness peers back at me in the form of a gaping hole in the ground. I scan the area and notice the pit is almost ten feet across—a mining shaft.

I brace to feel a pair of hands on my back, expecting to go flying any second. Being underground might have deafened some of my senses, but it sharpens others. I tilt my head, but no matter how hard I concentrate, I only sense the two of us.

Banks crouches and pulls out a roadside flare from his back pocket before striking the tip. A spark instantly catches fire, the flare hissing as it burns, and he tosses it down the shaft. Red light flickers as it tumbles through the air.

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