Page 79 of Seal My Fate

Does Saint even know I’m gone?

He must. He’ll be looking for me by now, I just know it. But will he find me in time?

“… Out there…?”

I freeze. There’s a woman’s voice, faint, coming from somewhere down in this dungeon. It calls again, a faded desperate screaming sound.

I lunge close to the bars and yell out into the darkness. “Is anyone there?”

There’s a pause, and then the voice comes again, stronger now. “Hello?”

“I’m here!” I yell back. “I’m trapped here too. Where are you?”

“Tessa?”

I gasp. The voice is faint, but unmistakable.

“Wren?” I scream. “Wren, it’s OK, we’re going to get out of here!”

I rattle the bars harder, desperate now. They must have snatched her at the airport or tracked her somehow when she left. Has she been down here all this time?

They’re eliminating all witnesses.

Through the bars, I catch sight of a heavy rusted padlock, hanging from the outside of the door, bolting it shut. Every time I shake the door, the lock makes a grinding sound of protest.

I whirl around, thinking fast. There’s nothing I can use in the cell, so I pat myself down. The dress is nothing but silk and feathers, but my shoe… I grab it eagerly, turning it over in my hands.

The stiletto heel has a metallic tip.

I rush back to the door, and slide my hand through the bars, holding the shoe. It just about fits, and if I reach at an uncomfortable angle, I can slam the metal heel into the old padlock.

THWACK.

I hit it wrong, and the heel glances off the lock. I almost drop the shoe with the change in force, but I grip the strap just in time. Dammit.

Careful, I tell myself, my heart pounding in fear. It’s our only hope.

I position the shoe again and bring it down on the lock. Hard. The padlock groans. I do it again, and again, hammering it with a barely-contained panic until my arm aches, and I’m beginning to lose hope that we’ll ever—

CRACK.

The metal join on the padlock gives way. I hurl myself at the door with everything I have, and it swings open with a groan.

“Wren?” I yell, looking around. “Wren, where are you?”

There’s no reply.

I race barefoot down the dark hallway, frantically checking around. There are a few more dusty cells, just like the one where I was being held, but they’re filled with old boxes, and shelves of wine. “Wren?” I scream, panicked.

There’s a faint sobbing noise. I rush towards the sound and find another cell at the end of the hallway. The door is barred, just like mine, and I can see my sister inside, huddled in one dim corner. She’s dressed in the clothes she was wearing yesterday, when we dropped her at the airport, now stained and dirty as she sits, curled into a ball, shaking and sobbing in hysterics.

My heart breaks.

“Wren, it’s OK, I’m here!” I call through the bars. But she doesn’t even lift her head. She’s having some kind of panic attack, brought on by the terror of being trapped here again. “I’m going to get you out!”

I check the door, but the lock is brand new and shiny. There’s no way I can break it.

“There have to be keys, around here somewhere,” I call to her. “I’m going to go find them. I’ll be right back. I promise!”

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