Page 84 of Their Cruel Love

“Keep going.” He glances at where Phoebe lies asleep on top of the rumpled covers.

“And she is not coming with us. I cuffed her ankle to the bed while you showered. That thing has sturdy anchor points. But here, listen up, this is what we’re doing.”

He acts like a fish out of water for a few seconds, mouth opening but no words emerging, then he gives up and nods.

“We are going to climb back up to the ruins and get into that room through the door on the ledge, get some evidence, maybe see if the cell tower can be connected to from there. A cable runs into the ground nearby.”

“How?”

I tick off the items on my fingers. “Rope. I found one. It was decorative but is sturdy enough. I’ve placed knots in it and a loop for the feet at the end. A metal bar to bash in what I hope will be an old lock.”

“They’ll know if we manage it. We can’t put a lock back together. However, I’m getting this feeling that whateverthey’re intending is almost ready for us. They aren’t even pretending to be nice. Who is going down the rope?”

“You. I’m stronger, heavier too. I can pull you up, take some of the weight as I lower you. I agree about the impending doom feeling. The way Bastion called out Phoebe’s name back there, and Emma’s, it felt…ominous?”

“Ominous, yes. And everyone is saying don’t trust you. There’s no boat, no plane, only Queen O to rely on for rescue.” He stares upward at the night sky. “I’m in, of course. You’re lucky I’m easily convinced. We should go now. The event won’t last forever. Bring the phone so we can try it up there.”

“I was going to. That office I went to tonight must have the controls to the internet and phone connections. I doubt it’s up at the ruins. They’d want it to be down here, close by. I was wondering, what if they regularly turn it on at night while we’re asleep?”

“Could be. We could sit up tonight and take turns to see if we can connect again. But if you want to go and climb that hill, we need to do it now. We can talk on the way up the track.”

“Good.” As I move to the door, he stops me with his hand on my arm.

“I have to ask this.”

“Yes?” I brace myself, expecting some heated questions about why I’ve hidden things, why he should trust me.

“Areyouokay?”

I flounder for a second, but I’m touched. I really am. Razor and I have been friends but never that close. Neverthisclose. I nod. Are these tears trying to come out? “I am okay now. As much as I can be.” I think back to the second when Imade that outrageous bid to keep their hands off of Phoebe. “I’m a… I am rather attached to her.”

“So am I, I guess.” He breaks eye contact, looks in at Phoebe, and the moments string together. “I hope there is a way out of this.”

“Yeah.” I have yet to tell him the fingers were real, severed fingers. That will not make for optimism, but realism is better. “Come on. Try not to wake her.”

But when we pass by the bed, ready to exit out the door, Razor speaks, quietly. “We need to tell her.”

He’s probably right. I chew the inside of my cheek.

And she rolls over, breathtaking as usual, her hair sprawling across the cover, her areola showing through her white tank top. That and the sweetness of her navel and the indentations in her panties where her sex is molded to it—the fabric has pushed into her cleft…this draws my eyes down her body. The clearing of her throat snaps my focus upward.

Blinking slowly, Phoebe rubs at her face. “What?” Awareness dawns as she takes in our bag and our dark outdoor clothes. The handcuff clinks as she flexes her ankle. “Where are you going? And without me?”

“The ruin.” Razor pats her foot, squeezes it. “We decided it was unsafe for you. Stay here. Sleep.”

“You were leaving without saying. You wanted me to freak out?”

“I left a note for you.”

“Marcus!” The accusation pairs with anger. Anger is better than fear, though the faint quiver of her mouth is new. I have to wonder if she is scared and hiding it.

“I don’t want you hurt. When we come back, I’ll tell you everything.”

“Everything?” she rasps out. “That says you have more you’re hiding.”

“Trust us. You need to sleep.”

Razor follows me after kissing her foot. I smile. He isn’t game to try for her forehead or lips.

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