Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“Lake. Help. Please…” the deep voice beckons.
“Who are you?”
“My name?”
“Yes.”
“Alwar.”
All war? This is not a good sign.
“Why does my name matter? I’m a prisoner here. Please let us out. We have families looking for us. We have children and wives. Jobs and friends. Your grandmother was sick. She had no right to take us. And that man who helps her is as insane as she was.”
“But I—”
“But what? We have been locked in here for months, Lake. Hurry before that man returns. We need help.”
What am I doing? There’s a human being in that room, and I know damned well he’s not some soulless monster. My grandma was out of her fucking head at the end of her life.
My rational mind sparks up, sounding the alarm. I have to help this guy. What the hell am I waiting for?
“Hold on. I’m getting you out!” I lift the sledgehammer onto my shoulder and twist my body. With the full weight of my five-foot-two body, I swing just as Bard’s voice roars behind me.
I turn my head.
He’s lunging straight for me. “Lake! Wait! Don’t open that door yet—”
CHAPTER TEN
My sledgehammer meets the space just above the door handle and produces the sound of hard metal slamming into thick concrete.
I always knew the door was unlike any others in the house. This one has intricate woodwork—mostly carvings of roses—however, it never occurred to me that the material was different.
The door doesn’t bow, bend, or rattle from the impact, but the recoil is so brutal, it sends painful shock waves through my wrists and throws me off balance.
I fall to one side as Bard lunges in an attempt to stop me from busting down the bedroom door. I’m unable to stop the steel head of the sledgehammer from barreling into Bard’s temple.
He drops to the ground.
“Bard? Bard!” I drop the sledgehammer and crouch beside him, pressing my hands to his cheeks. There’s no blood at the site of impact, but that doesn’t mean anything. His skull might be fractured.
With a shaky hand, I grab my cell and call Franny again.
“911 what’s your—?”
“Franny! It’s Lake! There’s been an accident. Bard was hit in the head. Call…call…” I suddenly remember that there is no one to come help, and Bard is too big for me to lift.
“What happened?” she asks.
I think I killed Bard. I fall flat on my ass and drop the phone. He’s probably bleeding inside his head. I know because I hit him. Me. With that damned anvil. What does it matter if it was an accident? I’ll be lost without him. My hate for that man fuels everything I do, but so does my respect for him. It’s codependency at its worst.
“Let me out, Lake. I can help you save him,” says Alwar.
I turn my head and stare at the door. How does he know what went down?
I just told Franny. That’s how.
“How? How can you help him?” I ask.
“I am a doctor. We all are. Please, Lake. Let us help him. Unlock the door so he can live.”
My mind spins. How are these guys doctors?
“Where did you go to school?” Stupid question. Alwar can say anything he likes. I have no way of checking at the moment, and I’m losing time.
“I have three degrees. Which one do you want?” he asks.
“Never mind.” I have to take the gamble and let these people out of that room. But how? “The sledgehammer didn’t work, and I need to find the ke—”
“The key is above the doorway,” Alwar replies. “Hurry before Bardolf dies from his head injury.”
I hop to my feet and reach for the narrow frame of the doorjamb. I’m too short.
Sonofa… I need a chair or a ladder or—
Wait. There’s a box of old papers in the room down the hall. I didn’t toss it out yet because it’s so heavy.
“I’ll be right back.”
I run to the bedroom two doors down and find the box. I slide it across the floor, pushing with my hands. I maneuver it out into the hallway and slide it toward Bard. I can’t stand seeing him lying there like that. Oh God. Please be okay.
I get the box into place in front of the doorway and step on top. A cold metal object greets my fingertips over the door. I take it and inspect the thing. It’s an old-fashioned skeleton key with intricate design work around the bow and shank. It’s unlike any key I’ve ever seen.
“Hurry, Lake,” says Alwar. “His breathing is erratic. Bardolf is going to die if you do not help him.”
I snap to and slide the strange key into the keyhole. The lock clicks, and the door opens with a slow creak.
I hold my breath and stand back, unsure of what I’m about to find.
“Holy shit.” I cover my mouth.
The large bedroom is nothing special—just a space with a gold beveled mirror above a four-poster bed. There’s an empty fireplace, too. But on the wall across from me is a huge painting.