9. Marcie
CHAPTER 9
MARCIE
SOMETIME AFTER – WHAT HAPPENED?
“ A argh,” I groaned, the sound rough and unfamiliar as it left my throat. My eyelids felt like they weighed a ton, and I had to force them open, blinking against the murky darkness that wrapped around me, thick and suffocating. My head throbbed with a dull ache, leaving me grasping for any clear memory.
My limbs felt heavy, slow to respond as I tried to move. My hands slid over a cold, hard surface—rough concrete? Or stone? I traced the gritty texture absently, the scratch of it grounding me in the sensation, keeping me tethered to reality as panic tried to claw its way through my chest.
What happened? My mind struggled to piece it together, the memory slipping just beyond reach.
Where am I?
The air felt damp, stale, thick with a metallic tang, layered with an unsettling hint of something musty and sour. Each breath made my throat tighten, a chill seeping into my lungs, making me shiver. I blinked into the blackness, hoping my eyes would adjust, but there was nothing to see. No light. No windows. Only an empty dark void.
Panic surged up, tight and sharp, and I bit down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. I couldn’t lose it—not now. I forced myself to breathe, slow and shallow, straining to listen through the silence around me. But I couldn’t hear anything—no voices, no sounds, nothing except an eery stillness.
My head begun to clear.
Anton. He’d been with me. They’d taken us both. We’d been drugged.
Then what happened? Aargh! I couldn’t remember.
My heart hammered in my chest, fear twisting my gut. I struggled to sit, pushing myself up too quickly, and the room spun. A wave of nausea rolled over me—whatever drug they’d used was still messing with my senses, making everything sluggish. My throat was parched, my tongue thick and as rough as sandpaper. I swallowed hard.
Come on, Marcie. Get on your feet. You need to get out of here. Find Anton.
Wherever they’d brought us, and for whatever reason, I couldn’t afford to fall apart. Fighting the urge to scream, I pressed my hands against the cold floor and forced myself upright. Swaying unsteadily, I stood and concentrated on my breathing as I willed the dizziness to pass.
Reaching out blindly, I ran my hands along the walls, searching for anything that might reveal where I was. My fingertips brushed over rough, uneven stone, unyielding beneath my palms. The cold seemed to seep into me, the air damp and heavy. With the dank air, darkness, and silence, a faint shiver ran through me as I realised: this place was underground—isolated, hidden. Thoughts of dungeons and torture bombarded me, nearly bringing me to my knees in fear. Oh god.
“Anton?” I whispered, terror lacing my voice.
Nothing. No response.
The image of his face burned in my mind—how his body had sagged, crumpling as if struck by an invisible blow. I could still see it: the helpless look in his eyes as he went down, my name on his lips. I’d watched him fall, powerless to stop it, before everything went black.
Panic tightened around my chest like a vice. Where was he? Was he hurt? Was he— No. I couldn’t let my thoughts spiral out of control. Anton was strong. Ex-forces, for God’s sake. He’d find a way out. We both would. I had to believe that.
But what if he was too hurt to escape on his own? The thought sent a jolt of urgency through me. I needed to find him. Help him. Except my head was still fuzzy, and I didn’t know where to start.
Okay, Marcie. Think. There has to be a door. They got you in here somehow.
Lowering myself to the floor, I pressed my cheek against the cold stone, searching for a shift in the air—any sign of an opening. There. A faint, cool draft brushed my skin.
Scrambling to my feet, I moved toward the source, hands stretched out in front of me. My fingers found thick wood—solid and heavy. Relief surged as I groped for a handle. Grasping it tightly, I pulled with everything I had, but the door didn’t budge. No matter how hard I tried, it stayed firmly shut.
A frustrated breath escaped me as I sank to the ground, wrapping my arms around my knees. Resting my forehead against them, I closed my eyes and willed myself to stay calm.
Focus, Marcie. Don’t lose it now.
I forced slow, steady breaths, even as the walls seemed to press closer, threatening to crush me. My thoughts began to spiral again, but I shook my head, gripping onto the one thing I could control.
Think. There has to be another way out of here.
Something scraped against the floor. I jolted, every nerve on edge. What was that? My heart hammered in my chest as I strained to listen. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate.
My body stiffened as the sound grew louder, each footfall more distinct, more real. I pressed myself harder into the wall, every muscle coiled, my breath quick and shallow. Whoever was out there, they were getting nearer. The air felt thicker around me, as though the quiet itself was drawing closer.
The door groaned, its hinges protesting under the weight of someone pushing it open. My pulse quickened and I tensed, ready to fight or flee—though neither felt possible in my current state. My eyes scrunched and I winced against the brightness from outside. A shadow filled the doorway, followed by two figures dressed in black, their faces hidden behind masks.
One of them spoke, his voice low and clipped. “On your feet.”
I opened my mouth to protest, to demand answers, but before I could speak, a rough hand grabbed my arm, yanking me forward. My heeled boots scraped against the floor, the sharp sound swallowed by the stillness. Fingers dug into my arm, but I barely registered the discomfort, desperate for answers.
“Where am I? What’s happening?” I demanded, my voice hoarse, more desperate than I intended.
The man who held me by the arm didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studied me with cold eyes, a faint, cruel smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
My heart pounded. “What about Anton? Where is he? Is he?—”
“Anton?” The other man chuckled darkly, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “He’s not your concern right now.”
I was pulled farther from the room, each step echoing off the stone walls, my head spinning. “Tell me what’s going on. Why are you doing this?”
The man holding me twisted his grip, pulling me closer. “You’re not in a position to ask questions, sweetheart. But you’ll find out what’s in store soon enough.” He smirked, his breath hot against my ear.
I stumbled, trying to break free, but the grip on my arm only tightened, his fingers digging even more painfully into my skin and making me wince.
“You’ll regret this,” I spat, my heart thundering with a mix of fear and defiance. Anton would make him pay for hurting me.
The guy’s grip tightened further, and I cried out.
“Oh, I doubt that. In fact, I think I’m going to enjoy what’s ahead for you, very much,” he chuckled, the sound low and menacing, filled with a dark promise of things to come.
His words slid like ice through my veins, and for a moment, I froze, caught in a vision of what might be waiting for me. The dark corners of my mind whispered things I wasn’t ready to face as he dragged me, stumbling, along a dimly lit corridor.
My body tensed, every instinct screaming for escape, but the hands on me were relentless as they pulled me through a large entrance. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it was no use. As we stepped outside, the harsh brightness of sunlight hit me like a slap to the face, a blinding contrast to the shadows I’d been trapped in. Everything outside seemed so ordinary—clear skies, the soft hum of distant activity—but something about it felt wrong.
My heart skipped a beat as I breathed in the warm, dry air, with the scent of something unfamiliar in the breeze. I had never seen the kind of landscape outside this building before—no towering grey buildings or damp, bustling streets. Instead, the faint outlines of hills in the distance and the warm yellow of the stone around me made it clear: this wasn’t the UK. I was somewhere else. Somewhere far from home.
My chest tightened. Terror crept in, cold and patient. Where was Anton? Whatever was about to happen, I didn’t want to face it alone. I would never wish this terror on anyone, but he had been taken with me, so I knew they had him, too. God, I wanted him. I just hoped they hadn’t hurt him badly, or worse, killed him. No, they wouldn’t have finished him off after bringing him along.
The last thing I remembered before succumbing to the drug they injected me with was him being part-carried, part-dragged toward the van they put me in. They wouldn’t have bothered bringing him just to kill him immediately. No, they wanted us both alive. But why? What did they intend to do to us?
“Where’s Anton?” I asked again, hoping they’d answer this time. I needed to know if I was ever going to see him again.
“Don’t worry, you’ll see Loverboy again soon. The boss has plans for you two,” one of the guys responded.
Thank God. Relief filled me at the thought of seeing Anton again when I’d feared I might never get the chance.
But what had this boss of theirs got planned? All kinds of scenarios invaded my thoughts. Yet, as I sat between two men leering openly at me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was waiting for us—whatever this was—was far worse than I could imagine.
Even with Anton by my side, I feared I might not survive whatever was coming next.