Chapter 37 – Marlowe
Chapter Thirty-Seven
MARLOWE
The dirt feels like it’s closing in, pressing against my back and my legs.
My hands are tied so tight behind me that my wrists burn, and every time I move, the zip ties dig deeper into my skin.
Next to me, Pearl Necklace is still sobbing, her breathing ragged and too loud.
I’m scared too, but I know if I start crying, I won’t be able to stop.
I have to keep my head clear, even if it feels like my skull is full of static.
I swallow hard and try to calm my voice.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Hey, can you hear me?”
Pearl Necklace just whimpers, turning her head slightly in my direction.
“What’s your name?” I ask, trying to keep my tone soft.
She sniffles, wiping her nose on her shoulder. “N . . . Nora.”
“Okay, Nora. I’m Marlowe.” I glance at the top of the pit, where I can hear Joel and his guys off to the side just out of sight. All I can see is blue skies and the rough uneven edges of the ground above me. “You still with me?”
She nods, but it’s barely noticeable.
“You got family waiting for you somewhere?” I keep talking, hoping it’ll ground her.
Her lips tremble. “My daughter. She’s . . . she’s in college. Harvard. I just . . . I just came to win a little to help with tuition. God, what did I do?”
“Shh, it’s okay. We’re gonna get out of here. You hear me?”
She doesn’t respond, just keeps making those small, desperate sounds.
I know how close she is to screaming, and I can’t let that happen.
I twist around, testing the strength of the zip ties.
Pain shoots through my wrists, and I grit my teeth.
There’s a jagged rock embedded in the ground near my left side.
If I can just maneuver my hands over it . . .
“Do you know those guys?” I ask, trying to keep her engaged as I squirm and twist, inching closer to the rock.
Nora sniffles. “I don’t know. Some of them were at the game. The big one with the beard was there. He’s the one who pulled me out of my car. I thought he was gonna kill me right there.”
“Okay. You’re safe right now. We’re both safe right now.
” I know it’s a lie, but I need her to stay calm.
I stretch my fingers, the sharp rock scraping against the plastic of the ties.
My shoulders ache from the angle, but I keep working, rubbing the plastic back and forth.
“Do you know anyone who might come looking for you?” I ask, hoping to distract both of us from the grim reality we’re in.
Nora swallows hard. “No . . . I mean . . . maybe. I was supposed to check out of my hotel today. If I don’t show up back home, my daughter will call the police, but . . . but I don’t know how long that will take. Maybe the next school break.” She starts sobbing again.
I press my lips together, feeling the rough edge of the rock slice a tiny bit of the plastic. It’s something.
The ground is dry and gritty, and dust keeps blowing in from above. I try to ignore the way my heart’s racing, the way my mind is screaming that this could be the end. I have to focus. I have to get us out of here.
Nora shifts, pulling her knees up to her chest as best as she can with her hands tied behind her. Her breathing is quieter now, but still shaky. I almost tell her to look away when I spot movement out of the corner of my eye.
Something small, dark, crawling just inches from my head.
A scorpion.
My breath catches, and for a second, I can’t move.
It’s close enough that I can see the curve of its tail, the tiny pincers tapping the ground.
My whole body goes cold, and I feel sweat break out on my neck.
I want to scream. I want to thrash and kick and get the hell away from it.
But I can’t. I can’t make a sound. I can’t risk drawing attention to us so Joel comes back for another one of his crazy games.
The scorpion crawls closer. I close my eyes, my pulse thundering in my ears. I try to keep breathing, try to keep still, even though everything inside me is telling me to run, to fight, to get it away from me.
After what feels like an eternity, it skitters away, heading toward the other side of the pit.
I release a shaky breath, and my body trembles so badly I almost pass out.
I can’t fall apart. I can’t let fear paralyze me.
I dig my wrists against the rock again, pushing harder, ignoring the sting of skin breaking.
I can hear Nora muttering prayers under her breath. I keep my own thoughts focused, forcing the panic down. I have to be smart. I have to be faster than them.
The plastic weakens, and I hear a faint snap. My hands jerk forward, almost free. I twist again, trying to force the rest of the tie to give way.
Nora is watching me now, her eyes wide, hope flickering across her face.
“Come on,” I whisper to myself, dragging the plastic over the rock again. My heart pounds, and I can’t tell if it’s from the adrenaline or the leftover fear. Finally, the tie breaks. My wrists are raw and bleeding, but they’re free. I rub them quickly, trying to get the circulation back.
I move closer to Nora, my hands trembling as I reach for her ties. She’s shaking so badly it’s hard to get a good grip. “It’s okay,” I murmur, trying to calm her down. “We’re getting out of here.”
Nora looks at me, doubt clouding her face.
I keep working on the ties, my hands still shaking from the near miss with the scorpion.
I don’t care how scared I am. I just need to get both our hands free before they come back.
I continue scraping the jagged rock against Nora’s zip tie, the plastic cutting into my own hand every time I twist it.
She whimpers with each scrape, and her breathing gets shallower.
“Hold still,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady. “I almost got it.”
She hisses again when the rock catches on her skin, and then she pulls away, shaking her head. “Stop. Please. It hurts.”
I let out a frustrated breath, trying not to let it show. “Okay. Maybe you should keep trying. I’m going to look for something else.”
She just stares at me, confused, as I shift closer to the dead guys, keeping an eye on the top of the pit, listening for any signs that Joel or his men are coming back. I glance at Jarred, his head slumped at an awkward angle. My stomach flips, but I force myself to crawl closer.
“What are you doing?” Nora gasps.
“I’m going to go through their pockets,” I whisper.
She lets out a small, strangled noise, like I just slapped her. “What? You can’t just—just steal from them. They’re . . . they’re dead. That’s shameful.”
I whip my head around, staring at her like she just grew another head. “I’m not robbing them, Nora. I’m looking for something sharp. A pocket knife, nail clippers, keys, or something. Anything to cut your ties. You really think I’m trying to loot their bodies?”
Her cheeks flush, and she looks down, guilt clouding her face. I want to snap at her, tell her to stop being such an idiot, but I bite my tongue.
I inch closer to Jarred, trying not to look at the way his mouth is still half-open, like he got caught mid-scream.
I take a deep breath and reach for his jacket pocket, trying not to touch the stiff, cooling skin.
My hands are shaking so bad I almost miss the inside pocket, but I finally manage to dig my fingers in and pull out . . . nothing.
I check his other pockets—just a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Great. I toss them to the side and move to the next guy. There’s blood dripping from his temple, and I force myself to look away as I reach for his coat.
Nora’s still muttering something about it being disrespectful, and I swallow down the urge to scream at her.
Does she really think I want to do this?
That I’m enjoying rifling through dead men’s clothes for fun?
I focus on the pockets, digging through lint, loose change, a crumpled receipt. Nothing of use.
“Damn it,” I hiss, moving on to the next guy and flipping him over.
His eyes are closed, at least, which makes it a little easier to stomach.
I pat down his pants pockets, and finally—finally—I feel something hard and metallic.
I yank it out and nearly cry with relief when I see it’s a small folding knife.
“Yes,” I whisper, flipping it open. The blade’s a bit dull, but it’s better than nothing.
I scoot back to Nora, holding it out. “Here. I’ll cut them off. ”
She hesitates, her eyes darting from me to the knife. “You really think that’s safe?”
I almost laugh at the absurdity of the question. “Do you want to stay tied up?”
She doesn’t argue, just turns around and holds her hands out behind her back.
I kneel down, trying to angle the blade just right, sawing through the plastic.
It takes longer than I want it to, my hands trembling so badly I drop the knife twice.
Finally, the tie snaps, and she pulls her hands free, rubbing her bruised wrists and sniffling.
I fold the knife back up, sticking it into my back pocket. I glance around the pit again, trying to formulate a plan. We can’t just wait here and hope for a miracle.
Suddenly, noise erupts above us—men shouting, angry and loud, and then gunshots. One of them zips into the pit, sending up a thin puff of dust where it hits the ground. I freeze, every muscle locking up. Nora screams, dropping to her knees, hands clasped together like she’s begging for mercy.
I flatten myself against the dirt wall, trying to make myself smaller, trying to stay out of sight. I don’t dare look up, afraid of what I’ll see.
There’s more yelling, heavy footsteps pounding the ground above, and then nothing. Just silence.
Nora is praying again, whispering words under her breath, rocking back and forth. I swallow hard, wiping the sweat and dirt from my face, trying to listen. I don’t know if I’m relieved or terrified. I don’t know what’s waiting for us now.
A few long, painful seconds stretch out, and then—
“Marlowe!”
I jerk my head up so fast my vision blurs. A figure looms above us, and for a second, I can’t believe it. I’m sure I’m seeing things, that my mind’s playing tricks on me because I want it so badly.
But he drops to his knees at the edge of the pit, his hands gripping the loose dirt, and his face comes into focus.
Damian.
His eyes scan the pit, wild and desperate, and then they land on me. He doesn’t move, just stares, his chest heaving like he just ran miles.
“You’re alive,” he breathes, his voice rough, almost like it hurts to say.
A sob breaks out of me. I press my hands to my mouth, trying to keep it together. His face blurs through my tears. I never thought—
He lowers himself to the ground, leaning over the edge of the pit, his hand reaching down. “Grab hold of me,” he says, voice steadier.
I lunge for his hand, gripping it with both of mine, my fingers trembling.
His grip is strong, grounding. Damian starts to pull me up, muscles flexing with the effort, his jaw set with determination.
I’m halfway up when Bridger appears next to him, leaning down to help.
Together, they haul me out, the strain evident in their movements.
My legs scrape against the rough dirt wall, and I kick to get a foothold, desperate to get out. I don’t care that the rocks cut into my skin, don’t care that my hands burn from the effort. I just want to be out of that hole, away from the suffocating fear.
When I finally make it over the edge, I collapse onto the ground, gasping for air, dirt and sweat sticking to my skin. Damian drops down next to me, one hand resting on my back, his touch firm and reassuring, like he’s making sure I’m not going to disappear.
I turn my head to look at him, and his face is inches from mine, eyes searching, dark and intense. He swipes a thumb over my cheek, wiping away a smudge of dirt. I feel his hand tremble for just a second before he steadies it, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“Thought I was too late,” he murmurs, barely audible, but I hear the crack in his voice.
I can’t talk. I just nod, tears spilling over again. I lean into his touch, needing the solidness of him, the heat of his palm grounding me.
Bridger moves past us, leaning over the pit again. “There’s someone else down there,” he calls, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “You okay?”
Nora’s muffled sobs echo up from below. “Please,” she whispers, voice trembling. “Please, help me.”
Bridger glances at me before lowering himself carefully, one knee on the ground as he reaches down. “I got you. Just give me your hands.”
Damian’s forehead brushes mine, his breathing ragged. “I didn’t know if I’d get here in time,” he admits, voice raw. “But I wasn’t going to stop until I found you.”
The ache in my chest swells, and I lean into his touch, my hands clutching his wrist, holding on for dear life. “I didn’t think you’d come back. I thought . . . I thought you left me.”
He shakes his head, eyes flashing with something fierce and unspoken. “I couldn’t—” His voice breaks, and he swallows hard, collecting himself. “I tried to. I did. But I couldn’t do it, Lo. I couldn’t leave you.”
My throat tightens, and I press my face into his palm, the warmth of his skin the only real thing in the world right now.
He looks down at me, eyes softening in a way I’ve never seen before. “You’re okay,” he says again, more to himself than to me.
I nod, still clutching his hand. “I am now.”
Damian lets out a shaky breath, and his other hand finds the back of my neck, pulling me just a little closer. I close my eyes, feeling his touch, the safety it brings.
I’m safe. I’m safe because he came back.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and whisper, “You saved me.”
His lips press against my forehead, gentle and lingering, and I let the tears come, because I know he’s here, and he’s not going to let me go.