“In five seconds? I doubt it. Besides, the higher he’d be, the sooner we’d spot him.”
Marco hung his head, muttering, “Goddamn Commandos.”
He turned left and went to check the window again, but the wood held tight. Chad rubbed his frozen hands and breathed on them, shifting on his feet as he waited for Marco to return. He vanished from sight as he stepped into the shadows, only his frustrated grumbling and the sounds of him kicking litter out of the way giving away his presence.
A minute passed, then another. “Marco?” Chad whispered.
There was no response, so Chad went after him into the dark, feeling like a total idiot. He tripped over a cardboard box and cursed, kicking at it. The place was full of them, and it stank of piss.
“What the hell are you doing there?” he said when he saw Marco crouched in the corner, his back to Chad.
Marco got up and brought his index finger to his lips. Chad came closer, frowning in confusion.
Only then did he see a gaping hole in the ground, blacker than the black of the street, a manhole cover lying next to it.
“Is that…?” he whispered.
Marco raised his finger again, this time telling him to wait, as his phone lit up with a new message. Chad spotted the sender’s name—Ginger Dick. Rooney. Marco had been waiting for a reply.
He read the message quickly and looked back up at Chad.
“Yes, it is,” he said, nostrils flaring. “It’s our goddamn tunnels.”
Chapter 33
Twenty-four hours since they brought her in, Victoria was still keeping up her stony façade.
She hadn’t touched her food in the morning, and another tray now sat on the floor, forgotten. Sitting with her back against the wall, she stared ahead, still as a stone. Phoenix, on the other hand…
Peter turned his gaze to the second window on his laptop screen, where another feed displayed Phoenix’s cell. The man was sitting on the floor cross-legged, staring at Victoria as he ate. He deserved an Oscar for his performance so far.
Skull had pointedly ignored Victoria when he brought Phoenix to the cells, hands and feet chained together, the rattling loud enough to wake the dead. She had stared with a grimace of disgust, but Phoenix had just shot her a wry smile and passed out on the bunk. It would be suspicious if he showed instant interest in her.
The show had begun the next morning.
The things he said were innocent enough—some bluff, a little taunting to get her to talk. But the way he said them made even Peter’s skin crawl. The man had a talent for being a creep.
“Still not hungry, little human?” he drawled, eyeing her food tray. “Or are you hoping to starve yourself to death? They won’t let you do that, you know. They’ll force you to eat and leave you to rot somewhere till you die rather than kill you. So… humane.”
“Easy…” Peter murmured into his headset. They’d given Nix an earpiece—a small, skin-colored thing that Victoria wouldn’t be able to see from her cell—so he could hear Peter’s instructions but not the other way around. The sound was coming from the camera.
Phoenix fell silent for a minute, head tilted to the side. Then he took a piece of bread, rolled it into a ball, and threw it at her. It sailed through the bars like a missile, hitting her in the head, and Phoenix smirked.
“Hello there,” he said with a sinister grin.
Victoria glowered at him.
She swung her legs off the bunk, her hands gripping the edge hard. “What do I have to do for you to shut up at least for an hour?” she hissed.
Phoenix didn’t miss a beat. “An hour? Mm… Wouldn’t mind more chicken.”
Her eyes flashed, but she got up. There was an open slot at the bottom of the bars for the food tray, and she went straight for it. Holding Phoenix’s gaze, she crouched over the tray and spat in it. Then pushed it out of the slot and across the corridor.
Peter raised a brow, curious. The tray stopped just outside Nix’s cell, and he reached through the hole and pulled it in.
Just like Victoria a few moments ago, he held her gaze as he lifted the drumstick she had spat on and took a big bite. “We’re gonna be the best of friends, little human,” he crooned in his low, intimate voice.
“Fucking animal,” she growled.
Peter rubbed a hand over his face. This idea of his was either brilliant or totally insane.
“Keep doing what you’re doing,” he told Phoenix. “She hates you already. This is good.”
It seemed she was losing her patience, to the point where it was easier to respond to him than bear his insane muttering. She would slip up and give them another piece of the puzzle sooner or later.
“Wanna know what they’ll do with you?” Nix mumbled, still munching on the drumstick. “Cause I know.”
She shot him a sharp look.
“They’ll make you disappear,” he said. “Pin something on you, big enough to put you behind bars forever and forget you ever existed. Who’s gonna miss you, little human? Your mother? Your husband?”
Victoria glowered at him from her bunk, her hands clenched into fists, her breathing rapid. “Don’t talk about him. You don’t know anything.”
“Why so angry?” Phoenix said with a chuckle. “Does he beat you or somethin’?”
She jumped to her feet. “Don’t talk about him!” she yelled, making Peter flinch. “He’s dead! I killed him with my own hands, and if you don’t shut up, I swear to God, I’ll find a way to kill you, too.”
Dead? Peter
