21. Penelope #2
I let out a heavy breath, placing the book down and grabbing the throw blanket to wrap around my shoulders.
It was so cold being surrounded by stone.
The constant chill kept me shaking. I didn’t like it, and I was over wearing the white slip dress.
It did nothing for warmth or concealment.
And I needed that. Especially down here. Especially if I… could pull this off.
Heading for the desk, I kept my pace fast. I picked up the phone that was sitting on the desk, bringing it to my ear. It was an old landline, but there was no dial tone. I hit numbers, frowning when nothing happened.
“Come on.” I hung up the phone, pulling open the top drawer. Contents slid forward. Some pens. Paperclips. I quickly pulled open the next. And then the top one of the other side. Papers. Junk. Nothing.
I spun, scanning the desk even more. I grabbed the gold letter opener, gripping to it tightly. It was shaped like a small knife, not too sharp, but sharp enough to do damage if I swung hard enough.
A small thin drawer sat at the top. As I went to reach for it, a loud, echoing bang had me jumping.
Knocking quickly followed and I put distance between me and the desk.
The door opened and a girl in the exact same dress as I wore pushed in a cart.
She had to have been younger than me, but not by much.
She had dark hair as well, but shorter. Where my skin was pale, hers was naturally tanned.
Her brown eyes quickly diverted as I took a step forward.
“Hi. I’m Penelope.”
She braved looking up as she grabbed a plate off the cart.
“Do you have a name?”
“No.”
“You don’t have a name?”
“Slave.”
My head shook, half in anger, half in confusion.
“Alright. What was your name before you were a slave?”
Brows wrinkled, and she straightened her arms even more for me to take the plate. I grabbed it, sticking it on the desk.
“Surely, you had a name.”
“You’re not from here.”
“…No. I mean, yes, I’m from London but—”
“Here, take this.” Tears came to her eyes.
“Can you tell me about it?”
She quickly shook her head.
“Is it horrible here?”
She took a drink off the cart, placing it by the plate, turning to leave.
“Please don’t go. Please. How do I leave here? Where do I go to escape?”
The girl stopped, looking over her shoulder only to come back to face me.
“You can’t leave. It’s impossible. No one makes it out alive. If you try, they will kill you.”
“I have to try.”
“Then you will die.”
“No. I won’t. Just tell me where to go.”
“No.”
She went to turn again, but I dove, grabbing to the cart so she couldn’t take it.
“How many guards are at my door?”
The girl looked ready to bolt.
“There were two when I was walking up, but they ran toward the dining hall.”
“There’s no guards at my door?”
I rushed forward.
“The heir is claiming suicide again. He’s shooting anyone who gets near him. It’s a bloodbath this time. He—”
I threw the door open, sucking in a deep breath as hope and fear nearly strangled me.
“Which way to get out?”
“Miss, I—”
“Which way?”
She pointed left, and I didn’t wait.
Could I remember the path Vaughn and I had come in?
It had to lead to the outside. We’d gotten in.
That had to mean something. But the guards.
They had to be posted throughout. How many times had I heard them address him?
Too many. But the slave had said there was a bloodbath going on. That could work in my favor.
Cement pounded under my feet as I pushed myself as fast as I could go. I turned to the first right, only to find myself in another long hall that seemed to go on forever. I spun, taking in what had to be dozens of doors down the length.
I started slow, looking for an opening as I jogged down. When I got halfway, an entrance opened to the right. I took it, picking up my speed at the narrower hall.
My lungs burned and terror was starting to sink into every inch of me.
Vaughn was going to be so mad. He’d come for me. He wouldn’t stop. I knew this like I knew it probably wouldn’t come to that. The longer I ran, the deeper I felt I was going. Freedom didn’t feel close, it felt fictional. I’d been a captive so long, I couldn’t imagine another way.
Turning, another hall opened up. Just as I barged into it, a door swung wide across from me. Three men emerged from the wooden door, laughing and in the middle of a conversation. All three were wearing the guard uniform, and each one’s face sobered upon seeing me.
“You. What are you doing out here?”
I backstepped, lifting the letter opener, and hitting a wall that wasn’t stone. Arms wrapped around me from behind, and I screamed, kicking my legs as the large man kept my arms trapped to my chest under the blanket. The letter opener fell, clinking against the floor.
“Stop! Wait! I’m lost. Please.”
“Oh, you’re lost alright.”
A blond-haired guard laughed, heading closer with the other two at his sides. Where he was on the shorter side, the other two were a good few inches taller. Both had dark hair, but where one had acne scars pitted in his face, the other’s skin was weathered.
“She’s a pretty one, isn’t she? Keith, get rid of the blanket. We need to make sure she doesn’t have any more weapons.”
The man who held me shifted, jerking my blanket free.
“Oh, yes. That’s better.”
“If you get near me—”
They all laughed. “You’ll what?”
The one with the scars moved in even more. “You’ll hurt us? Maybe we’ll hurt you first.”
My head shook through the unnerving tone of his voice. “I want to go back now. This was a mistake.”
“The only mistake I see is that you’re still wearing clothes.”