16. Fae #2
The memory of my last attempt crashes straight into that fragile feeling, and my stomach twists as the fear returns. I’m already bracing myself for the possibility that this is about to go very, very wrong again.
“Wait,” I say quickly as she lifts the cutters. “What about your husband?”
“He’s gone, it’s just us,” she replies calmly kneeling by the bed again. “I was watching him from outside. He has been acting strange for weeks and when I finally had enough, I followed him.”
Her voice shakes slightly as she positions the cutters around the chain. “I thought he was seeing another woman,” she continues bitterly. “I waited out there until he left so I could come in and see what the hell he’d been hiding.”
Her eyes flick up to mine.
“I never expected this.”
The metal snaps.
We both look down as the chain falls away from the cuff with a heavy clatter, the sound of metal striking the floor feels far louder than it should.
Neither of us moves. The broken length of it lies twisted against the boards, dull and ugly now that it’s no longer holding me in place.
Fiona stares at it like it personally offended her before she exhales slowly through her nose.
“That fucking monster,” she hisses whilst moving on to my wrist.
“You don’t know the half of it,” I mutter as the metal snaps again.
Her hands move to steady my arms the moment my weight shifts off the bed.
The sudden closeness makes my chest tighten and before I can stop it tears begin slipping down my face.
She pulls me into her without hesitation, wrapping her arms around me and pressing my head against her shoulder.
Her hand comes up to my hair, patting it softly in that instinctive, maternal way that makes my chest burn.
I can’t believe this is real.
My body doesn’t seem to know what to do with the contact and the reality of what’s happening is only just beginning to land.
The chain is gone.
The door is open.
And I’m suddenly only moments away from freedom.
“Where are we?” I croak.
“My house in London.”
I suck in a slow breath as my eyes move around the room.
This must be where he grew up. An image of a younger Roman flashes through my mind as I imagine him running through these rooms, bringing his friends back here during the weekend with the kind of careless happiness that only exists before you realise how dark the world can be.
I can see it so clearly; the warmth this place must have once held.
The easy comfort of Christmas dinners, the chaos of birthday celebrations, and the small ordinary memories that slowly turn a house into a home.
But that feeling is gone now.
Whatever light this place once held has been swallowed by something darker. The walls that should have held happy memories now feel tainted.
“What about Robyn?” I gasp suddenly. “She was with me when I was taken.”
Fiona’s hand pauses against my back, “I haven’t seen anyone else.”
“She has to be here!” the words burst out of me, sharp with panic.
“She might be,” Fiona says softly. “Okay, sweetheart. We’ll look.”
I let out a shaky breath as we move hand in hand through the doorway. The reality of leaving still hasn’t fully landed and the rush of it all is quickly swallowed by the desperate need to find Robyn.
Every other thought gets pushed down as we move through the house quickly.
Our footsteps echo through the halls and Fiona pulls door after door open.
My heart pounds harder with each room that reveals nothing but empty space.
Every door that swings open onto silence makes my chest tighten further and the hope I’d been clutching onto slips a little more each time.
By the time we reach the front door my shoulders begin to sag.
The horrible realisation that we’re going to have to start all over again creeps in.
Another warehouse. Another building. Another place I’ll have to tear apart piece by piece just to find her.
We are almost outside when Fiona suddenly gasps.
Her grip tightens and she yanks me to a stop so sharply my arm nearly jerks out of its socket.
“The wine cellar,” she says suddenly.
We turn on our feet and hurry downstairs.
The sudden possibility of finding her pushes my legs faster than they probably should be moving.
The staircase spirals down beneath us and the air shifts immediately, growing colder with every step we descend.
At the bottom of the stairs another corridor stretches out in front of us, darker than the rest of the house, and my eyes catch on the door at the far end.
It’s locked and chained.
“Fiona—”
She’s already moving. The bolt cutters snap through the chain with a harsh crack that echoes off the cellar walls as the metal drops to the floor with a heavy clang. We pause as my heart pounds before Fiona pushes it open.
I choke on a sob as I look in the room. Robyn is on a thin mattress pushed against the wall.
Her body is folded tight in a ball like she’s trying to disappear into the floor.
The room is colder than the one upstairs, darker too, and the bare stone walls make the space feel more like a cage for an animal than a place for a human.
Whilst I was upstairs in clean sheets and enjoying warm meals…
Robyn was down here.
None of us move for what feels like an eternity before Robyn finally shuffles and looks up.
“Fae?” she gasps.
The sound of her voice breaks my chest wide open, and I rush forward as she scrambles to her feet. Both of us crash into each other and tears spill down her face.
“Oh my God—”
“I thought you were dead—”
Fiona pulls us both into her arms, gathering us against her like she can hold the pieces of us together.
The contact breaks whatever thin thread of control I had left and suddenly we’re all crying at once; the sound is raw and messy in the cold cellar air.
Robyn clings to me with shaking hands as Fiona presses us both into her chest, one hand cradling the back of my head and the other wrapped tightly around Robyn’s shoulders.
Her hand moves through my hair in slow, steady strokes, offering a quiet comfort only a mother knows how to give.
“Come on girls, we need to go,” Fiona says finally, wiping her own eyes.