The Ritual

“It’s fine. I know where we’re going.” She stays silent while I take us into the woods, walking the path that I’ve made over the years. Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I use the flashlight once the lights on the back porch are too far away to find the door that sits in the side of a hill ahead of us.

Walking up to it, I punch in the code and push it open. “Watch your step,” I tell her, allowing her to enter first but keeping hold of her hand. Once the door closes behind me, I bring her to a stop and flip on the light.

It lights up the staircase to the bunker below. This time, I place myself in front of her and walk down the stairs with her behind me.

Once we hit the landing, I release her hand and flip on the other light, to illuminate the room and turn to look at her. She comes to a stop, her small gasp filling the large space. Her wide eyes scan the wall in the back—chains, knives, and guns hang from hooks and sit on shelves. There’s a cage to the right that’s currently empty. But the chair in the center of the room is what gets her attention. Cindy sits tied to it with a black hood over her head. She struggles in the restraints, her mumbled words behind her gag making little sense.

I lean against the table, crossing my arms over my chest, and watch my wife carefully. Her wide eyes are focused on Cindy. “How …?”

“Your father helped me get her down here while you changed,” I inform her. She needs to understand that I’m not the only one who will protect her. He made himself very clear when he spoke to me on the back porch before he and my father left.

Eliminate any threat to his daughter. I had no problem agreeing to that.

She slowly turns, her eyes finally meeting mine. “All of this because she lied about sleeping with you?”

I refrain from smiling at her innocence. That was one of the reasons I didn’t want to show her this. Sometimes, I like how innocent she was when she first ran into me. “That was her excuse for showing up, Blake.”

“I knew she was lying … but I don’t understand.” She licks her lips.

I push off the table and turn to face it. Picking up the black designer bag, I turn it up upside down, emptying the contents out onto it. “This is what she brought to our house.”

Blake walks over to me and looks at everything. She picks up a syringe full of clear liquid. “But … she said she was there to see you.”

“She was there to hurt you.”

Looking up at me, she frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I bought that house two years ago, Blake. I’ve never had Cindy over. She wanted you to believe that she had been there several times with me, but that was a lie. Her sole intent was to hurt you while I was gone.”

Her frown deepens, and she puts the syringe down. “Then how did she know where it was?”

I smile. “That’s a good question. Let’s ask her.” Walking over to her sitting in the chair, I remove the hood from her head.

She immediately starts thrashing in it. Her hands are tied to each armrest with rope, and her legs are spread wide, secured to each leg with zip ties. I rip the tape off her mouth.

Throwing her head back, she screams, making my ears ring.

“No one can hear you,” I tell her.

She leans forward the best she can to look at Blakely. “Help me. Please,” she begs. “He’s fucking insane.”

Blake ignores her and picks up a roll of duct tape that was in Cindy’s bag. “What were you going to do with this?” she asks her.

“Did you hear me?” Cindy yells. “He’s going to kill me.” Tears run down her cheeks as she desperately pulls on the rope.

Placing the tape down, Blake picks up the syringe. “What’s in this?”

“Fucking bitch,” Cindy hisses. “Listen to me!”

“Let’s see.” Blake walks over to us, and Cindy starts sobbing. Coming to a stop, Blake looks up at me. “Does it matter where I stick her with it?”

I shrug. “Doubtful.” It’s probably a sedative of some kind. I can’t see Cindy having the skills of a nurse to stick a vein. Especially if Blake was going to be fighting back at that time.

“Okay.” Blake stabs Cindy in the upper arm with it, her thumb hovering over the plunger.

“Wait. Wait. Wait. I’ll tell you,” she rushes out. “Just don’t do it. Please. I’ll tell you. Anything you want to know,” she says through the tears running down her face.

“I’m listening,” Blake says but doesn’t remove the needle from Cindy’s arm.