Dusk (Dangerous Web #1) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,51

I had visions of Sparrow’s cabin or maybe the air fresheners shaped like pine trees.

The gravel bit into my feet, yet Jet didn’t slow.

As we moved through the night, there were no other voices. No hushed conversations. No sense we were being watched.

How many people were here?

Also absent were the sounds of motorized vehicles, engines revving, tires on asphalt, or horns honking, all common things to hear in Chicago. As we walked, the gravel continued both ahead and beside me. There wasn’t enough of a gap in my blindfold to see beyond it.

Was there grass?

Was there sand?

I didn’t know.

And then we stepped up and over a new threshold, entering a building—a different one or the same. I didn’t know. The air inside was noticeably stuffier as if the day’s heat had settled within the cement-block walls, humidity dampening the concrete floor to where it wasn’t wet, but it wasn’t dry. The scent of pine was replaced by the musty odor I knew in our cell. This building contained more doorways and stairs. We stopped and locks clicked. We moved forward and doors closed behind us. I didn’t know if we walked in circles, up the same steps we’d gone down, or repeated various hallways.

Finally, I was shoved through a doorway.

The room was dark.

Even blindfolded, I knew this was the same cell as before.

I felt it under my skin.

There was a familiarity that welcomed and saddened me.

I instinctively stepped toward the bunk bed, held onto the metal, and waited.

The door closed, the locks engaged, and the lights came on.

If it was possible to feel a multitude of emotions at once, in that split second, I did.

There was hope that when I removed my blindfold, Araneae would be present, fear for where she was and what was happening to her, and wishes that she was safe and back with Sparrow.

The reality was much lonelier.

Taking off my blindfold, I confirmed my fear: the room was without another prisoner.

That’s where I was now, back where I’d been with Araneae.

This cell contained a toilet and sink, two amenities missing from the interrogation room. I took care of business, washed my hands and face, and made my way to the bottom bunk. It was as we’d left it. The pillow and blanket from above were on the bottom bunk. I lifted the blanket to my face and inhaled, subtle scents reminding me of my friend. I imagined the way she’d been, and as tears filled my eyes, I reminded God of the deal we’d made.

“Please keep her safe. Please keep their baby safe. I willingly offer children I might one day have had.”

Thinking about babies, I admitted to myself that I was honestly inexperienced in their care.

Ruby had joined us as almost an adult.

As a child, I cared for my younger sister, but she’d been only a year and a half younger than me. When she was an infant, I was a baby. We grew up together, yet somehow, I’d taken on the role of caregiver along with our grandmother. We’d all taken our places in the life we’d been dealt. Mason was the provider. At only a little over a year older than me, he’d watched our grandparents. When they could no longer provide, he stepped into a role he was much too young to occupy.

The woman’s statements were the catalyst for my thoughts.

She’d said I was nothing, no one.

Perhaps to some people it could appear so. Those weren’t people who mattered.

Even during those difficult times, I never felt as though I was no one. I was Lorna Pierce. I was a sister, granddaughter, daughter, and a girl, turned teenager, turned woman. I was a friend and a wife.

The woman had been scarily accurate in my biography. My jobs had been menial.

That didn’t make them less.

I worked hard.

I never expected anyone to hand me success. Even when Mason would send me money from the service, I saved, not spending more than necessary. When he brought me to the tower, I refused to be a freeloader. The men had their work that kept them busy for hours late into the night and early into the morning. The tasks I took on weren’t earthshaking.

I cooked.

I cleaned.

I did my best to make the tower a home for all of us.

Memories filled my head from years ago.

And then there was the missing piece of her interrogation.

My husband, Reid Murray.

Did she know about him?

How could she not?

Yet she referred to me as Pierce not Murray.

My husband had never made me