The handgun slips from my trembling hands and falls at my feet. Terror sweeps through me as I lower my gaze to the weapon. A little voice tells me to pick it up, to do as I’m told before I’m punished. My mind screams for me to move, but chains of fear have wrapped themselves around my body. How would I be able to pull the trigger when I can’t even feel my hands? Maybe it’s for the best. I’m not a killer. What does it matter whether I kill Damien or not? I’ll die anyway and I don’t want to go to the grave with someone else’s blood on my hands.

Damien’s eyes widen as they meet mine, both relief and concern flooding them. From behind me I hear Judson’s heavy breathing.

His clothes rustle as he stands, the feet of his chair scraping the floor. His footsteps are heavy, vibrating across the entire floor. My body goes cold when he reaches me, picks up the gun, and moves behind me.

The heat of his breath scalds the back of my neck as his hand cups my chin. My back remains turned away from him, my eyes focused on Damien, the man who used to be my personal nightmare, the man who used to be a monster and is now giving me silent strength.

Judson pushes my chin up, tipping my head back so I face the cobwebbed ceiling. “Guess what?” Something cool and sharp touches my throat, pressing into the skin. I grit my teeth at the pinch the first cut makes. “I actually considered sparing your life. I wanted you to kill my brother and then I planned to give you a new life.” He moves the knife away from my neck and uses it to lift a lock of my hair. The fragile trickle of fresh blood trails down my throat and settles into the hollow of my neck. “Your red hair would have been popular with the gentleman I cater to. Such a shame you have to die in vain. So young, so exquisite.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and taste the metallic tang of blood. I want to take a breath, but my lungs feel as though they have shut down. Even though the cut of a knife is nothing new to me, I can’t imagine how painful it would be to have my throat slit. Certainly more painful than the cuts on my wrist but how would I know?

I close my eyes so all I see is darkness instead of Damien struggling to free himself from his chair.

Holding me in place with an arm around my neck, Judson brings the tip of the blade to my cheek and traces a path from my cheek to my chin. “This pretty face, this beautiful skin, all going to waste because of one stupid mistake. What a damn shame.” He brings the knife back to my cheek before returning it to my chin, this time slicing into my skin again, digging deeper into my flesh.

The blood warms my skin. It runs unhindered toward my chin and drips off to join the dust on the floor. I grit my teeth tighter so as not to cry out with pain, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing my agony. Then he lets me go, shoves me hard toward my chair. I fall to the ground, my forehead slams against the edge of the seat. I can’t describe the pain that cuts through my skull and flashes like lightning in my brain.

“Sit,” he barks at me.

Feeling as though the contents of my brain have been shaken several times, I push away the dizziness and try to haul myself to my knees. Something falls to the floor. My instinct tells me it’s Damien and his chair.

“You fool,” Judson approaches me. “You still think you can save her? Not going to happen.” He grabs me by the hair to a standing position and slams my butt onto the seat, so hard I swear my tailbone cracks. He unbinds my hands but only to wrap my arms around the back of the chair before binding them again. As he has done with Damien. He leaves my feet free.

Defeated and unable to hold my head upright, my chin hits my chest. I stare at the trail of warm blood that drips down my bare skin onto my breast.

“If the bomb goes off, you won’t be able to save her or yourself,” he says. “You’re both doomed to die a very painful death.” He pauses. “On second thought, I don’t mind escorting you both to hell. With both of you dead, my job here on earth would be done.”

I lift my eyelids a fraction to steal a glance at Damien who’s still on the floor, in the struggle to set himself free. Judson doesn’t help him but instead walks away from me. He picks up the ticking bomb and studies it for a moment before placing it back down on the floor. “Ready or not, this little guy will transport us all straight to hell.”

He whistles as he strides toward the stairs. “See you on the other side.” He climbs the staircase, taking one heavy step after the other, as though he has all the time in the world. As soon as the door slams shut, Damien’s heavy breathing fills the room, strained grunts and shuffling as he tries to get to the bomb, which is now in the center of the room. What will he do when he gets to it? Even if he happens to have the skills to deactivate a bomb, there’s nothing he can do with his hands behind his back. He struggles more, and slams his head into the floor with exhaustion before lifting it up again.

I want to help him, to help us, but I don’t have enough energy left in me to fight only to end up losing.

My heart sinks when Damien, too, stops trying to get to the bomb. Blood is seeping through the bandages around his injured arm.

Closing my eyes, I listen to the beeping sounds coming from the small machine that’s about to take our lives and end it all. I want to know how much time we have left but I’m unable to see the counter as I’m too far away. For the second time in my life, I try to make friends with death. It doesn’t work this time as I struggle with the fear of being blown to pieces and having my skin and flesh melt in flames.

A strange sound cuts through the silence and my eyes fly open. My first thought is that Judson has returned to deactivate the bomb. Maybe it was all a game to him, a way to frighten us and he didn’t actually plan on letting it go off. I raise my drowsy gaze to the top of the stairs but he doesn’t appear. The door remains closed. But that sound is still there, the sound of metal against metal. Damien must have heard it too because I see him struggle to lift his head to listen. The sound is not coming from the stairs but from another area of the room, from behind one wall.

Suddenly, in my peripheral vision, I detect a movement. I turn to look just in time to see a door opening at one end of the room. It had looked so much like part of the wall that I hadn’t noticed it.

Relief gushes through me when Adrian emerges, dressed all in black, gun in hand.

Tears of joy choke my throat. I bounce up and down on my chair to catch his attention, even though he can clearly see both of us.

Both Damien and I take turns making incoherent sounds, pleading for Adrian to set us free.

“Thank God I made it to you in time.” Adrian gives me a brief glance then rushes to Damien first. He yanks the tape from his boss’s mouth. “If I hadn’t been in your office for the final inspection I wouldn’t have seen the security video feed on your office computers—”

Office computer? Security video feed?

As I digest Adrian’s words one by one, I move my gaze from one corner of the basement to the next, searching for the hidden cameras. I don’t see any. Anger rises up my throat when I realize that Damien had not only locked me up in a coffin in his basement, he also watched it the entire time, from computers at home and at work. I force my anger down. How can I be angry when the very cameras I hate are the ones saving our lives?

“There’s a bomb,” Damien whispers hoarsely. “Get to it before it goes off.”

Adrian’s gaze lands on the bomb. He nears it. Without touching it, he studies it for a moment, eyes narrowed. Sweat pools into my armpits when he bends to pick it up. I pray he knows what he’s doing. He turns the box over in his hand, prods it with a finger before he glances at Damien with a soft chuckle. “This is fake.” He presses a few buttons and the beeping stops. He drops it to the floor.

I almost pass out with relief.

Adrian returns to Damien but Damien shakes his head. “Take care of Ivy. Get her the hell out of this place.” His voice is deep and dusty, firm. “Drop by the office. Get the briefcase for her.”

Adrian hesitates but nods. Within seconds he has freed my mouth and is trying to unravel the rope binding my hands together. His heavy breathing tells me he’s finding it hard to untie the tough knot. I lose patience and shrug him off. “Go to Damien. He’s bleeding.” I’m still better off than Damien. The bomb may be fake, but the clock is still ticking. Judson could return any moment.

We all freeze when the sound of footsteps upstairs catches our attention. He’s back. “Please—hurry,” I say. Tears hit the back of my throat and I swallow them.

Adrian’s gaze sweeps the room. He spots the knife Judson had used to cut my cheek. He uses it to cut through the tough ropes around Damien’s hands. Before he can do anything else, the footsteps get louder.

“Don’t worry,” Adrian whispers. “I’ll get him before he makes it down here.”

Adrian drops the knife and aims his gun at the top of the stairs, awaiting Judson’s appearance. Will he be able to shoot him before he shoots us?

Damien bends his body at the waist and tries to untie the knot fastening one of his legs to the chair. “Forget me. Go help Ivy. Whatever happens, she’s your priority now. Make sure he doesn’t get near her again.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do as I say.” The frustration is evident in Damien’s tone as he struggles to free his legs.

“Very well.” Adrian picks up the knife and dashes to my side the moment the key turns in the lock. Fear rushes in my ears as he cuts through the rope, succeeding to free me this time. He slides the knife across the floor in Damien’s direction and lifts me from the chair. My legs give way.

“Hold on.” He scoops me into his arms and hurries toward the hidden door as Damien frees one of his legs.

We barely make it to the door when the door to the basement bursts open.

“Drop her or I’ll shoot,” Judson orders.

Adrian’s steps falter. He hoists me higher in his arms to better aim his gun at Judson. “Not before I shoot.” With each word, Adrian takes a step back, toward the door.

Judson takes careful steps down the stairs, Adrian moves faster. By the time we reach the door, Judson is at the bottom of the stairs, a cloud of thunder darkening his face. “Don’t fuck with me.” He takes a few steps toward us.

“Back off, Judson. Lock the door behind you, Adrian.” Damien, who has finally freed himself, steps between Judson and us, holding the knife in front of him. When Judson doesn’t stop moving, Damien lunges for him, but Judson steps out of the way at the last second. Damien falls to the ground at his feet and the knife slides from his hand and out of his reach.

The last thing I see as we disappear through the secret door and into a dark tunnel is Judson’s gun aimed at Damien’s chest. The moment the door closes, a gunshot rings out.

A raw scream rips through me as Adrian fumbles with the lock of the door then runs with me in his arms.