Page 95 of Fake Dark Vows
“Jennifer?” I whisper.
“Rose?” The sound of her voice, so fragile, so vulnerable, fills me with dread.
I feel my way down her shoulders to her hands which feel like ice. She’s shivering so badly that I can’t keep her hands still. “Are you hurt?”
I recall the bruises on her face and wish I’d been more tactful.
“We need to get out of here, get you to a hospital.” I hesitate. “Jennifer, do you know where we are?”
All I can hear is the gushing in my ears, but then Jennifer squeezes my hand and I lean closer to her face in the darkness. I can barely feel her breaths on my cheek, and a fresh wave of panic crashes through my chest.
“…water…”
“Water?” I lean closer still, pressing my ear to her lips. “Where are we, Jennifer?”
“Under … water…”
No, no, no.
“We can’t be underwater,” I say out loud. “We wouldn’t be able to breathe.”
My pulse races as my thoughts play catch up with what I just said. My wrists and ankles are not bound. Jennifer’s wrists aren’t bound either, which means that our captors know that we can’t escape. But if we’re underwater, and the floor is dry, wherever we’re being held must be sealed. It must be airtight.
“Help!” My voice is shrill. “Help! We’re trapped in here. Help us, somebody!”
Jennifer squeezes my fingers again. “Stop. Save … oxygen…”
She’s right. I slump back against Jennifer, her shivers passing through me too.
What are you supposed to do if you’re in an enclosed space and running out of oxygen? Stay calm. That’s a fucking joke—how can you stay calm when you know you’re going to die if no one rescues you?
Regulate your breathing. Conserve your energy. Stupid guidelines that will only prolong the inevitable, because you’ll still die when there’s no oxygen left.
What can I do? If Jennifer is right, what’s the point of yelling for help—no one is going to hear us underwater.
But at least we have each other. If this is where my life is going to end, I’m grateful that I don’t have to spend my final hours alone.
I lie down on the floor and stretch my body the length of Jennifer’s, spooning her, my arms wrapped around her. It’s the best I can do for her. Small comfort, but I can at least try to keep her warm, let her know that I’m not going anywhere without her.
I close my eyes and think about my twin. He wasn’t alone when he died—he had me, my heartbeat, my body pressed against his, just like me and Jennifer now. I think about my dad. How will he cope with the grief all over again when he’s alone? A million dollars in a bank account is no consolation for losing your family, and I don’t even have to think about it to know that he’d swap the money for me in a heartbeat.
Finally, I think about Brandon.
His smile. His eyes. The way he played piano in the bar of the hotel in Las Vegas. I hope he finds peace one day. And love. I hope he falls in love one day with a woman who loves him with the same fierce passion that I know he’s capable of.
I snuggle up against Jennifer’s cold back and empty my mind.
CHAPTER 31
Brandon
I can’t go home. I can’t go to my parent’s apartment in the city—my mom is sleeping on a pullout bed in my father’s hospital room.
I stumble through the city streets, blinded by the thoughts hurtling around my head and the sound of Rose’s voice. “Yes, I’m coming back.”
Another cab rolls past, and I flag it down. I give him Ron Valentine’s address before I even realize that’s where I’m heading. Rose—for reasons currently unknown to me—has a vested interest in my takeover of Ron’s business, so if anyone can help me find her, I figure it’s my father’s dearest friend.
The concierge eyes me up and down when I arrive at the apartment building. He doesn’t let me out of his sight while he calls through to their apartment, and I can see in his eyes that he’s hoping they’ll send me away.