Chapter Twenty-Five
Sunny
“We’re going to die, Sunny,” Abby whispers from the darkness.
“We’re not going to die,” I say firmly, running my hands along the walls. “We just need to stay calm and think smart long enough for Jack to find us.”
“We’re in Mexico, Sunny.” Her voice shakes. “I know it. This is the same place the cartel held me last time. And it took Spike three months to find me.”
“If it takes three months, then so be it,” I say. “But when they do find us, we need to still be breathing. I know you’re scared. I am, too. But we have to do our part.”
My fingers trail over cold, unyielding stone. “It feels like a brick room. No seams, no handle, nothing. How the heck did they even put us in here?”
“From up there,” she whispers.
I can’t see her, but I tilt my head back. Pitch black.
“I don’t see anything, Abby.”
“That’s how they did it last time,” she says, voice distant. “There was a trapdoor. Sometimes they opened it to pull me out… mostly just to drop food and water in.”
No wonder she panics in the bunker.
“How would they pull you out?” I ask.
“They’d drop in a rope ladder,” she whispers. “Just give up, Sunny. There’s no way out of here.”
I sigh and feel my way toward her, sliding down to the cold stone floor beside her.
“I’m not giving up,” I say, wrapping an arm around hers. “There may not be a way out now , but that won’t always be the case.”
“I don’t understand how you’re being so brave,” she says. “You’re acting like this is something you deal with every week.”
“Is panicking going to help us?” I ask gently. “All it does is drain energy and cloud judgment. We need clear heads if we want to survive this. Once I’m back home with Jack, then I’ll fall apart.”
“Do you think Tank’s worried?”
“Honey,” I say with a small, dry laugh. “I think Tank’s losing his freaking mind.”
“Bones, too,” she says. “I bet he’s furious. Things don’t end well for the people who anger that man.”
“Good,” I growl. “I hope he skins them alive and makes them eat their own flesh.”
A beat of silence.
“Ew,” Abby huffs.
I laugh quietly. “Yeah… that was pretty gross.”
“I bet he does do that though,” she says quietly. “Makes people eat their own flesh. I hope he does that to Muerte when they finally capture him.”
“Yeah,” I say in the darkness. “Me, too.”
Silence.
“Do you think they’ll remember us if we die?”
I close my eyes as tears slip down my cheeks, but I steel my voice against the wave trying to pull me under.
“Yeah, honey,” I whisper. “I don’t think we’ll ever be forgotten.”
A low click echoes above us.
Then… creak.
The ceiling groans, followed by the harsh metallic scrape of bolts sliding open. A rectangle of pale light cuts through the darkness as a trap door opens.
A rope ladder unrolls and drops with a heavy thud, swaying slightly in the stale air.
“Climb,” a man’s voice orders from above. Cold. Unfamiliar. Commanding.
I rise slowly, squinting into the harsh light. “Who are you? Why did you take us?”
“Climb,” he repeats, unmoved.
“Let us go,” I plead. “We won’t tell anyone. I swear.”
“Climb the damn ladder, perra .”
I step forward, voice shaking. “Let my friend go. Please. I’ll do whatever you say. Just let her go home.”
A beat of silence.
“Last chance,” he says. “Climb.”
“And if we don’t?” I ask, jaw tight.
“We seal the room. Fill it with water. Leave you in it for a day or two. See if that changes your attitude.”
My fists clench. “You’re bluffing.”
“I wouldn’t test me, sweetheart,” he says like he’s bored.
I don’t flinch. I won’t give him that satisfaction.
But beside me, Abby gasps. “Sunny,” she whispers, trembling. “He’s not bluffing. They did that to me… last time. Hours in ice-cold water up to my chest. I thought I was going to drown in the dark.”
Her voice breaks. I reach for her, grounding us both.
My fury burns hot, but I keep it buried.
“All right,” I growl up at the trap door. “We’ll climb.”
“Good choice,” the man replies.
I turn to Abby, voice low. “Let me go first. But stay right on my heels, okay? I’m not chancing them shutting that door before we’re both out.”
She nods, or maybe she just trembles. It’s too dark to tell.
I grip the rope ladder. The fibers are rough and stiff, cutting into my palms. It smells like mildew and rust. The rungs creak under my weight, but they hold.
As I climb, the air grows warmer…closer. I can hear breathing above. More than one man.
Behind me, Abby’s hands fumble on the rope. She lets out a quiet whimper but keeps going.
Light spills brighter with each rung. The trapdoor opening isn’t wide, just enough for one body at a time. My shoulders scrape against the sides as I reach the top.
A hand reaches down. I slap it away. “Don’t touch me.”
The man just laughs, stepping back.
I pull myself through the opening, heart hammering, muscles tense, ready to strike if anyone tries to separate us.
Abby’s fingers appear next. I grab her wrists and help haul her up before anyone else can get near.
The room we enter is small. Concrete walls, one bare bulb swinging overhead, casting harsh shadows across the floor. The stench of sweat, smoke, and stale alcohol clings to everything.
Three men stand nearby. All masked.
But I only look at them long enough to count.
Then I plant myself in front of Abby, breathing hard, fists clenched.
We’re out of the hole.
But we’re not free.
“Follow me,” says the man closest to me. “Someone wants to say hi.”
Not seeing another option, I reach back and clasp Abby’s hand. We follow our captors up a narrow set of stairs, out of what I can only assume was a basement.
Light hits us…dim, fluorescent…and voices follow.
“Oh good,” someone says. “They’re awake.”
I spot two men standing near a metal table, both familiar in the worst kind of way.
“Aren’t those the guys from the compound security feed?” I ask Abby, not bothering to lower my voice.
She nods stiffly.
Then he steps forward.
The man in charge moves like he owns the ground he walks on.
Slow, calculated, like every step is a choice.
He’s tall, and lean, with dark skin, close-cropped black hair, and eyes like polished onyx…
flat and cold. There’s a tattoo running up one side of his neck, black ink sharp against his skin, and a ring on his finger shaped like a skull. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Everyone calls me el Muerte, ” he says, arms spreading slightly in mock welcome. “But you two? You can call me Luis.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why do people call you Muerte if your name’s Luis?”
I don’t even know why I ask. Maybe my brain’s trying to keep me grounded.
He grins like I just made his day. “It was given to me by the people,” he says, amused. “It means death. Fitting, really. I liked it, so it stuck.”
I want to lie. Want to tell him his name is stupid, that he could’ve picked something better. Something less theatrical.
But I don’t like lying. Not even to men like him.
“Suits you,” I say quietly.
“Indeed,” he chuckles, clearly pleased with himself. “And this here is my good friend…”
“Max,” Abby finishes, her voice trembling.
Muerte grins wide like this is all some kind of game. “Right you are, Abigail. Max has been very helpful these past few months. Smarter than I expected. But loyalty?” He clicks his tongue. “That’s always the question, isn’t it?”
He steps aside, gesturing toward Max.
“I need to be sure his allegiance doesn’t still lie with those men of yours,” he says.
Then he looks Max dead in the eye.
“Prove to me who you follow. Kill them.”
“Not happening,” Max says immediately.
“Excuse me?” Muerte asks, his tone turning sharp.
“I don’t kill women unless they deserve it,” Max replies evenly. “Not even for you, boss. Now, put Spike or one of those fuckers in front of me? No problem. I’ll put a bullet in their skull without blinking.”
“Noble,” Muerte muses. “I suppose I can give you this pass. Then how shall we deal with them, if we’re not going to kill them?”
“Lock them up,” Max says. “Hold them until you’ve taken control of Palm Springs and I’ve taken over the Shadows. Then let them go. What are they gonna do…go to the cops?”
“Wouldn’t matter,” Muerte laughs. “I’ll have the entire department replaced with my own men the moment I take over.”
“You’re insane,” I snap, the anger bubbling too hot to hold back. I turn to Max. “And you …how could you betray your family like this? They loved you. They would’ve died for you. And you traded them for this ? For power? Control?”
My voice breaks. “Well, control this , you shithead.”
Without thinking, I yank off my shoe and hurl it at the man who hurt my friends. It hits his chest with a soft thump and drops to the floor. His only reaction is a raised brow.
“I like this one,” Muerte chuckles. “Feisty. I think I might keep you. How would you feel about being queen to thousands?”
“Fuck you,” I growl, already reaching for my other shoe.
He laughs again. “Yes. That would be fun. You’ll be my queen…after a little submission training, of course.”
I hurl the second shoe at him. He sidesteps it, still grinning like the devil himself.
“I could give you the world,” he says smoothly. “Want me to kill the men who took you? Done. Want a house made of diamonds? An island? A jet? A closet full of pretty dresses like the one you’re wearing?”
“What I want is for you to let us go,” I growl.
He shrugs. “No can do.”
“Then let her go,” I plead, glancing at Abby. “Let her go home.”
Silence stretches for a few seconds. Then Muerte nods.
“Done.”
“What?” I blink.
“I’ll let your friend go…if you agree to submit and do as I say.”
“No, Sunny,” Abby says, panicked. “I’m fine. I’m staying with you. He doesn’t get to control you.”
“Deal,” I say firmly, turning to pull Abby into my arms. “Tell Jack I’m sorry. Tell him I love him.”
“Sunny, no,” she cries, gripping me tighter.
I pull back and turn to the devil himself. “I want proof. I want to hear she made it back to Spike before I agree to anything.”
“Done,” he grins. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s get you home.”