The Secrets We Hide: The Four - book 2

by Steele, Becca

What the fuck was going on in this place?

  When Zayde returned to us, the van speeding away, he motioned with his head towards the road, and we jogged towards Cassius’ SUV.

  “What are we gonna do about Winter’s car?” Cass paused by his open door.

  “Already thought of that. I’ll take care of it.” Weston dug around in his pockets and held up his key ring, grinning triumphantly. “Still got her spare car key. I never gave it back after the respray. I’ll follow you back.”

  “Meet ya back at the house.” Cass swung up into the driver’s seat, and I jogged around to the other side. Zayde slid into the back, while Weston got into Winter’s tiny car. I smirked, the worry temporarily pushed from my mind as I watched him try to adjust the cramped seat to fit his large frame.

  “Hold on,” Cass muttered and threw the car into a U-turn, the tyres screeching in protest. He shot down the empty road, Weston following behind, keeping up as best as he could in Winter’s car.

  “Anything?” I already knew the answer before I even asked Zayde the question.

  “Sorry, mate. No sign of her, or of whoever was on duty. Only place we didn’t look was the building you and Cass already checked.”

  “Yeah, she was long gone from there.” Cassius’ voice was sombre. “Where is she?”

  “My boys will keep an eye on the docks. But…fuck,” Zayde muttered. “We need to find her.”

  Yeah. We did.

  Before it was too late.

  THREE

  It’s so dark.

  Slowly, carefully, I blinked my eyes open, becoming aware of an intense, throbbing pain in my head. I groaned, holding myself as still as possible to minimise the agony I felt in my skull if I moved. As my eyes adjusted, I gingerly looked around, moving my head as slowly as possible.

  Where was I? My heart started racing, and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, curling into a ball. My breathing grew shallow, and a sob tore from my mouth before I was even aware of it.

  I fell apart.

  Eventually, my cries turned to whimpers, and I concentrated on breathing slowly and deeply, in through my nose, and out through my mouth. When I finally felt calm enough to take stock of my surroundings without panicking, I raised my head.

  It was difficult to make out much. The only light came from a single oval-shaped bulb on the wall to my left, hanging over a wooden door which was slightly ajar. I could feel a very faint breeze blowing in from somewhere, so there must’ve been a vent or air shaft in this room, although I couldn’t see it. Other than that, I was surrounded by solid stone. Floor, walls, and ceiling. No windows. If I had to guess, I’d say I was underground somewhere, possibly in a cellar of some sort. It had that kind of damp, cold feeling. Stone steps in the corner of the room ascended to the ceiling where there was what looked like a hatch opening, and next to the steps was another wooden door with a padlock. I was sitting on a mattress which had a pile of blankets at one end, and there was a small metal table next to the mattress with a bottle of water on it.

  I peered at the bottle suspiciously, debating whether it was safe to drink. It didn’t look like the seal had been tampered with, but I wasn’t about to risk it, despite my parched throat. I needed to get out of here.

  Flexing my wrists, I climbed to my feet, using the cold stone wall to support me. A wave of dizziness overtook me, and I swayed on my feet, nausea rising up in my throat. Fuck. My legs suddenly gave way underneath me, and I crashed back down onto the mattress.

  Okay. I wasn’t going anywhere. Yet. I pulled my legs up and rested my chin on my knees, closing my eyes until the dizziness passed. How could I stay positive? Was there anything positive? There didn’t seem to be any blood coming from my head, at least—I guess I could be grateful for small mercies?

  Unfortunately, that thought did nothing to comfort me.

  Footsteps sounded overhead, and my heart pounded, drumming loudly in my ears as there was a loud screeching of metal against metal, and the hatch opened, revealing a pair of black shoes.

  They stepped onto the first step.

  Then the next.

  Then the next.

  I huddled on the mattress, my back against the wall, biting down on the sleeve of my hoodie to stop myself from doing anything stupid like screaming the fucking place down. I’d never been so terrified in my life, and if I hadn’t practically collapsed when I’d tried to stand, I’d have been trying to make a run for it.

  A man came into view—short, stocky, pale, dressed in the uniform of a security guard, complete with a black cap. He paused for a moment, closing the hatch behind him, before he descended the rest of the way down the stairs. When he saw I was awake and watching him, his lip curled, and he quickly strode across the floor, grabbing me and pulling to my feet. Another wave of dizziness hit me, and only his arms around me stopped me from falling. He gripped me tightly around the waist, my back to his front.

  “What are you doing here, little girl?” He spoke in heavily accented English.

  “Little girl? Excuse me!” I spluttered, before clapping my mouth shut. Don’t antagonise the strange man, idiot!

  “One more time.” He bent his head close to my ear, his breath smelling faintly of onions, hot on my cheek. Gross. “What are you doing here?”

  I said the first thing that flew into my mind. “I came to look at the boats.”

  He chuckled humourlessly. “You are telling me you came to look at the boats, on restricted land, at night?”

  “Yep.”

  “Foolish gi—” His words were cut off by a faint, muffled shout overhead.

  “Winter!”

  Caiden.

  Determination filled me, and I opened my mouth to scream as loudly as I could, but the man slammed his hand across my mouth. In a flash, I felt a cold metal blade at my throat, and I froze in place.

  “Nyet. Do not move. Do not make a sound. I will take great pleasure in slicing your pretty little throat open.”

  Who the fuck speaks like this?

  He pressed the blade harder against me, and all thoughts flew out of my mind as I felt a sharp sting. Tears rolled silently down my cheeks as I stood, statue still, listening to the faint sounds overhead. Caiden was right there, above me, and I couldn’t tell him.

  The sounds faded away, and I knew he was gone.

  The pressure against my neck disappeared, and the man spun me, throwing me down onto the mattress. My head jerked as I fell, sending a searing pain through me. Black spots danced in front of my eyes, and I struggled to stay conscious.

  Dimly, I heard a ringing sound, then the pounding of footsteps as the man ascended the stairs. I heard him bark a string of words into his phone that made no sense to me in my state, followed by the sound of scraping metal assaulting my ears again. I curled up, holding my head, and closed my eyes.

  * * *

  Peeling my eyes open, I became aware of the man from before, sitting on a chair, cigarette in hand, watching me. When he saw I was awake, he stood, throwing his cigarette to the floor and stubbing it out with his boot.

  “Bathroom.” He pointed to the door directly under the single light. “Water.” He indicated the bottle on the table that I’d noticed before, and then his voice turned threatening and cold. “Do not attempt to leave. You will not like the consequences.”

  With that threat echoing through the room, he stomped off up the stairs, the hatch slamming down into place behind him.

  My throat was so sore that I threw caution to the wind, sitting up slowly and unscrewing the cap of the water bottle. The liquid slid down my parched throat, soothing it, and I drank around a third of the bottle, not knowing when I’d be getting any more.

  Once I’d placed the water back on the table, I carefully climbed to my feet, and holding on to the wall for support, made my way to the tiny bathroom, pulling the light cord that dangled from the ceiling. The room contained very little—just an ancient porcelain toilet and a tiny, cracked sink with a tarnished mirror above it.

  I examined
my throat in the mirror, noticing a thin line of red where the knife had nicked my flesh. Thankfully it only seemed like a minor scratch. Turning on the tap, I put my hands under the brownish-coloured icy water that came spurting out, and when it ran clear, I used my hands to gently clean the cut as much as I could, then dabbed water over my face.

  Once that was done and my skin was numb from the cold, I felt my head, where there was a sizeable lump, which sent throbbing pain through me as soon as I touched it. Quickly dropping my hand, I made my way back to the mattress, collapsing down onto it, barely caring about the springs digging into me as another wave of nausea and dizziness overtook me. I pulled one of the blankets from the pile over me, resting my sore head on another, and somehow managed to fall asleep.

  I had no idea how much time had passed when I awoke, but my stomach was painfully empty, and I gulped down another third of my water, forcing myself to stop and save some for later. I wasn’t sure if the tap water was safe to drink, and the last thing I needed was to get ill on top of everything else.

  What to do? I was in no state to try to escape, with my head all fucked up, but I had to try something. A slow circuit of the room proved fruitless—the other door next to the stairs had a heavy-duty padlock that I had no way of opening. I stood next to the stairs, leaning against the wall, trying to get my brain in gear so I could think. My only chance was to make a run for it when the man returned next. Could I even run in this state? I had to try.

  Mind made up, I decided to try the classic trick of arranging my blankets in a lump in the hope it would look like there was a body under there. Obviously there was no way it would actually fool him up close, but it might buy me enough time to get up the stairs and out…where? My guess was that I was still at the docks. I had to take it one step at a time. First, get out and find a hiding place, then take it from there.

  I arranged my blankets and turned on the bathroom light, leaving the door ajar, so that if the blanket trick failed straight away, he might think I was in the bathroom. Yeah, it was a pretty horrendous, flimsy plan, but it was the only one I had.

  Hiding in the shadows by the stairs, I waited.

  * * *

  The scraping of metal echoed through the room, and the throbbing in my head increased at the sound. I battled another wave of dizziness—there was no way I was going to let anything stop my escape attempt.

  Footsteps descended the stairs, and once they hit the floor, I counted to five under my breath, then made a run for it. Scrambling up the stairs as fast as I could go, my ears ringing and my heart pounding, I reached out with my hands to touch the pitted metal surface of the hatch opening.

  My fingers made contact, and at the same time I was grabbed around the legs and yanked downwards, my cheek smacking into cold stone as my face connected with one of the steps. Arms caught me, and I felt a sharp jab in my neck.

  I knew nothing else.

  FOUR

  Two and a half days.

  Sixty hours, give or take.

  No Winter.

  The four of us were going insane. Kinslee was blowing up our phones, wanting to know where she was. We’d told her Winter was ill and would be in contact when she was better—anything to delay her while we searched.

  “Anything?” I asked Weston for the tenth time, and he shook his head, frustration clear in his eyes.

  “Nothing.”

  None of our contacts had been able to find any trace of Winter. Best-case scenario, she was still at the docks, and we’d somehow missed something important. Worst case—she’d ended up on the Argo Navis, which we still knew fuck all about. Or…no. I wouldn’t let my mind consider anything else.

  Down in the basement gym, West and I spotted each other on the weights, both of us trying to focus on anything but the problem of Winter going missing. I’d never felt so fucking helpless in my life. Every minute we went without answers was another minute where she could be in danger, or worse.

  “Car. Now.” Zayde burst into the gym, where I’d just started pummelling the punchbag, needing to take out my frustrations on something. Weston sat up from the weights bench, grabbing a towel, his eyes widening as he took in Zayde’s expression.

  “What is it?”

  “Docks,” he threw over his shoulder, already heading back up the stairs, and my stomach lurched.

  * * *

  Cassius pulled up in the same place we’d stopped last time, behind a black-and-chrome motorbike with a guy standing next to it. Lloyd “Mack” Mackenzie. An intimidating-looking fucker—shaved head, tatted up, dressed in bike leathers, a black bandana covering the lower part of his face. His dark eyes swung to us before his attention zeroed in on Zayde.

  Zayde climbed out and went to speak to him, talking in low tones, then beckoned us over.

  Mack met my eyes as I came to a stop in front of him. “Rich boy.” I nodded at him, clenching and unclenching my fists, on edge. He must’ve read the impatience in my eyes because he got to the point straight away. “The security guard was overheard arguing with someone on the phone earlier—another one of Creed’s boys was keeping an eye out. He didn’t catch the conversation, but he heard the guard say something about ‘holding the girl captive.’ Someone turned up at the gate, waiting to be let out, and he had to get out of there.”

  He grabbed his helmet from the bike seat and straddled the bike. “I came by to check it out after hours, and the security guard is nowhere to be seen. Been watching the place for the last hour, and there’s no sign of him. If you want another look round, now’s your chance.”

  I didn’t wait to hear any more. I ran towards the docks, Z, Cass and West right alongside me, as the bike roared off behind us.

  We reached the empty guard hut, and Weston went straight to the camera feeds. “Gate camera’s still on the blink.” He shrugged. “Makes life easier. Just avoid these areas.” He cycled through the feeds, indicating the spaces the working cameras were pointing at, mostly facing the water.

  “Let’s start at the building where we found Winter’s phone,” Cass suggested.

  “Yeah. That’s what I think, too.” Fuck, my voice was coming out all hoarse. I gritted my teeth. We’d find her. There was no other option.

  Stalking down the same corridor as before, I came to an abrupt halt, Cassius running into my back.

  “Cade!” Weston’s harsh whisper-shout sounded close to my ear.

  “I see it,” I muttered.

  We stood over the body lying on the floor in front of us. I nudged it with my foot, carefully flipping it over.

  I took in the details—a short, stocky guy, shaved head, a crooked nose, dressed in a black shirt and trousers, with a radio clipped to his belt. As I moved him, my eyes were drawn to the area just above his ear. The whole side of his head was caved in, a pool of blood spreading underneath. An iron bar lay discarded a few feet away, stained red.

  The smell of blood filled the air, a coppery, metallic tang, catching in my throat.

  I hoped like fuck that this blood only belonged to the dead guy. Winter…no. She was going to be okay. There was no other option.

  Weston made a gagging sound, turning away. Zayde stared impassively at the body, then pulled out his phone.

  “I need another favour… Yeah. Clean-up crew… Same place.”

  He ended the call. “I’m going to meet the others. Check the rest of the building.”

  “I’m going with him. I need some fresh air.” Weston scrubbed a hand across his face, blowing out a breath, then disappeared back down the corridor. I stood, still staring down at the body, trying to process everything. What the fuck had happened here?

  Cassius came to stand beside me. “He’ll never get a chance to get ahead in life, now,” he commented, using the toe of his shoe to point to the dead guy’s skull.

  Twisting around, I stared at him.

  “Get it? Ahead? His head?”

  I raised a brow. “Really. You got jokes, now?”

  “I’ve always got jokes.” He s
hrugged.

  “Right…” I cleared my throat. “Get your head in the game. Come on.”

  We started walking down the corridor, avoiding the pool of blood that had spread around the body.

  “Cade!”

  My brother’s urgent shout from the doorway sent me spinning around, and I was standing in front of him before I was even aware I’d moved. “What? Is it Winter?”

  He handed me his phone. “It’s Kinslee.”

  Kinslee? I held the phone to my ear. “What?”

  “Caiden. Fuck. I’m so glad I got hold of you guys.” Her voice was shaky. “I’m…I’m at the hospital. With Winter. Not the local hospital; I’m at Lansdown General. Can you come?”

  Winter. “On my way,” I said brusquely, then ended the call, handing the phone to Weston. “Let’s go. Winter’s at Lansdown General Hospital.”

  She was in hospital.

  With Kinslee.

  Safe.

  I fucking hoped.

  “Why not the local hospital? What the fuck is going on?”

  I had no answer for Cassius. And at the moment, I didn’t care. I needed Winter to be okay. That was the only thing on my mind.

  We pulled into the hospital car park forty minutes later, and West called Kinslee to find out where to go. After getting lost following her instructions, we eventually ended up in the waiting room of a large ward, all white, sterile walls, and blue padded chairs with metal frames.

  Kinslee appeared in the corridor, her hair pulled back, dressed in yoga pants and a thick jumper. She crooked a finger at us, exhaustion clear in her face.

  I raced over to her. “Where is she?” I didn’t bother with pleasantries—I needed to see Winter. Now.

  “Come on.” I followed her down the corridor to a small, private room. She opened the door.

  Snowflake.

  Whoever did this to her was going to fucking pay.