What felt like a few minutes passed before we stopped moving. A door opened, and I heard water splashing from a distance. The man with solid arms carried me toward the marina. Fear rocked through my body, sending a ripple of nervous energy down my arms. Several pairs of shoes tapped the cement behind us. Instead of heading toward the dock, we took a set of stairs that tunneled underground. We stopped at the bottom of the encasement.
“Where are you taking me?” I choked out.
No answer.
The sound of heavy footsteps filled the silence that hung in the air between us like smoke. We stopped in front of a brick wall. A man wearing a black cloak with the hood pulled over his head removed a brick from the center of the wall, revealing a hidden lock. He slipped his hand into his pocket, produced a skeleton key dangling from a silky red string, and slid it into the lock.
“Where am I?” I attempted to roll onto my back to look up at the man cradling me, but as I moved, he tightened his grip, smashing my face against his hard chest. “This is some Skull and Bones meets Harry Potter shit,” I muttered. “Are the Death Eaters on the other side of this wall waiting for us in Diagon Alley?”
A man laughed behind me.
I struggled to break free from the man restraining me, but it was no use. The harder I fought him, the more he tightened his death grip. As the man in front of us removed the key from the secret lock, another person stepped to his side and helped him push the wall inward, revealing a private entrance hidden beneath the town.
“What the fuck is this place?”
Of course, no one answered me.
Dead silence.
We stepped into a cramped passage that smelled like mildew, salt, and earth. No one even breathed as we rounded a corner, then another. I tilted my head to the side to look at the stone walls with iron lanterns built into them, the dim light casting a soft glow. Symbols were etched into the walls. They looked like markings you would see in a Masonic temple.
Except these were scary.
Skulls with knives driven into the bone. Knight helmets with blank faces and the eyes of a demon. A knight in full armor holding the Scales of Justice. The weight was unbalanced, dipping to one side with a giant serpent holding it down, slithering up the arm of the knight.
A few minutes passed before the man in front of us opened a door. We stepped into a massive room with high ceilings that seemed impossible this far underground. He set my feet on the ground, and I staggered to the side. I couldn’t maintain my balance, and before he could grab me, I fell on the hard floor.
My curls hung in my eyes as I leaned forward, groaning in pain. Someone moved behind me, fisted my hair in their hand, and forced me to look up. Straight ahead, two thrones sat atop a dais. A man dressed in a long black cloak sat on his throne with a hood covering his face. I knew he was watching me, studying every move I made.
I blinked a few times to clear the sleep from my eyes. Five men in black cloaks hid under their hoods. The man before me rose from his throne, tall and imposing with his cloak fanning out around his ankles. I stared up at him, attempting a glance at his face, but his hood covered his eyes.
He stepped off the dais and moved in front of me. The man behind me forced my head down, holding my hair.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, my voice sounding distant.
The robed men surrounded us, creating a circle to trap me inside. My breath caught in my throat. With my heart hammering out of my chest, I could hardly function, on the verge of a panic attack.
Were these men going to kill me?
Rape me?
Torture me?
I had no fucking clue.
“You brought me here,” I muttered. “What do you want? What is this place?”
No one spoke.
Was this all a dream?
Wake up, Alex.
I dug my fingernails into my forearm, clawing at my skin to help me wake up.
This had to be a dream.
A new version of hell.
I raked my fingernails up and down my vein, trying to free myself from this prison. When my nails proved unsuccessful, I flattened my palm on the floor, feeling in front of me. I found a small stone and pinched it between my fingers, scraping my sensitive skin with the sharpest point.
“Wake up, wake up,” I whispered, repeating the same motion.
Why wasn’t it working?
Not real.
Not real.
Wake up, dammit.
Black wingtips stopped in front of me. A man reached down and grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into my flesh with force. I slapped his hand, and he released me, taking a step back.