CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The basement door slammed shut behind us, the sound ringing in my ears like a death knell. My chest heaved, panic clawing at my insides as I tried to make sense of what the fuck was happening.

Daniella’s scream pierced the air. It wasn’t just a cry for help, it was raw, visceral, and filled with a terror that made my blood run cold. Cherish locked the basement door, her hands shaking as she twisted the pathetic lock in place. “They’ve got her,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “They’ve got fucking everyone.”

From the sound of things, we weren’t far behind. I didn’t say that aloud, knowing it would do us no good. My sister ushered me down the stairs. I took in the room, noting that there wasn’t anything that would help us.

“What do we do?” My voice came out much stronger than I felt at the moment.

Cherish didn’t answer right away. She scanned the dimly lit room, her sharp eyes darting from the pool table in the center, the sofa against the wall, to the small windows barred with iron grates near the ceiling. We were trapped, and we both knew it.

“First, we make a weapon,” she said, moving to the sofa. She grabbed a decorative, ripping the case free with quick, desperate movements. “If they come down here, we’re not going without a fight.”

She turned and began loading pool balls into the pillowcase, her hands working fast despite the fear etched into her features. The clinking of the balls against one another was almost deafening in the suffocating quiet of the basement.

The sound of footsteps above us sent fresh waves of panic through me. The thuds were erratic, moving from one end of the house to the other. Occasionally, something crashed—a chair? A table? I couldn’t tell.

My stomach churned as I pictured what they could be going through.

“I’m so sorry,” I rasped.

My sister looked at me with a glare. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because this is Wilder.” I started to pace. “And Liza was right.”

“You’re not blaming yourself for what this sick, twisted asshole and his friends are doing to us, Autumn.”

I didn’t argue the point, but this was on me and there wasn’t anything she could say to change that. “The masks they’re wearing match the one you shoved in the closet.”

She began to reply, hesitating, her gaze darting to the ceiling as another scream echoed down to us. “So this is some kind of planned revenge? If he’s doing this for you, why not just—” She stopped herself, her expression darkening. “This is fucked.”

I didn’t know what conclusion she’d just come to, and I wasn’t going to ask.

I wasn’t sure what Wilder wanted, not really. Obviously, me. But then what?

Cherish moved to a light switch at the bottom of the stairs and looked over her shoulder. “I’m going to turn this off.”

I swallowed and gave a terse nod, packing all my needless commentary into a box. There was no way in hell we were walking out of this basement with the upper hand, and I had a sinking feeling that whatever the fuck was going on upstairs, this was only the beginning.