Page 95 of Mad Love

The soft hum of the elevator was my only company as I was lowered deeper and deeper under the club. Other than a single overhead light, there was no way of knowing where I was, what floor I was close to. It was disorienting in a way that was pretty genius.

But it also made me wonder what happened if there was a fire or some other emergency. God, what if the elevator broke down? There wasn’t even an emergency button. I’d never been claustrophobic, but suddenly the space felt like it was shrinking around me, and I wanted out. No, I needed out.

I leaned my back against the wall and closed my eyes, focusing on taking deep breaths as my hands fisted at my sides.

“This’ll all be over any minute,” I whispered to myself.

Except for the ride back up.

I mentally rolled my eyes. My brain had zero problem torpedoing hope with reality.

When the car stopped and the door opened, I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t… this.

I stepped into a brightly lit hallway with marble floors and gray walls trimmed in snow white paint. Elegant artwork hung along a lengthy corridor that forked almost fifty feet down.

A uniformed guard in a suit stood waiting for me with a bottle of water, which he promptly handed to me. His muscles were barely contained in the charcoal lines of his clothes, and I spotted tattoos winding up his neck and curling around his bald head. “Welcome back to Pandora, Miss Cabot. Are you ready to proceed? Or do you need something else first?”

I slowly took the bottle, eyeing the lounge area behind him with its bright floral arrangements and plush chairs. It was like I’d stumbled into the waiting room of an upscale hotel. The change was jarring from the scene upstairs.

“N-no,” I finally managed. “I’m ready to proceed.”

“You’ll need your key.” He inclined his head at the elevator.

I reached in and grabbed my key. Within seconds of my pulling it free, the door slid shut, and I heard humming as the car started back up.

“This way,” the man instructed, leading me forward.

My shoes squeaked obnoxiously on the polished floors, and I tried to be aware of my movements as I went. Ash and Linc had suggested I show up in something designer that Madelaine would’ve worn, but I needed to know I could make a run for it if things went sideways.

Running was hard to do in a pencil skirt and heels.

I eyed my surroundings. Then again, I was God-knew-how-many stories under the desert, so where the hell was I gonna run?

At the fork, the guard took the left hall. Then he made a right at the next fork. By the fourth turn, I realized Pandora was even bigger than I’d anticipated. I was hopelessly lost, and every hallway was identical.

Same art. Same floors. Same walls.

There was no way to find my way back without a guide or dumb luck.

The guard stopped short in front of a door, turning to me. “Your key?” He used his thumb to do the same thing as Jake, opening up a small compartment in the wall next to the door so I could repeat the process again with the key, face scanner, and blood test.

Once I’d passed the tests, the door opened. No lights were on in the room.

He tapped a doorbell mounted inside the room near the door. “Ring the bell when you’re ready to leave,” he instructed me, and closed the door behind me. I flinched when it locked me in darkness.

“Great,” I muttered, reaching out to see if there was a light switch.

The overhead lights flared to life, triggered by my motion.

“Convenient,” I said to myself, getting my first look at the small room.

The space was roughly as big as my closet at Pacific Cross. With white walls, a white tiled floor, and a couple obscenely bright fluorescent lights embedded in the concrete ceiling, the room was big enough to walk around in but not do much else. And there were only three pieces of furniture.

A television mounted to the wall.

An armchair.

And a set of particle board drawers.

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