The Merciless (The Merciless #1)(40)

I crouch next to Brooklyn again and try to work the nail through the knot. I manage to loosen it a little before the sweaty nail slips from my fingers. I swear under my breath and fumble along the floor with my fingers.

The scratching sounds in the corner. They’re louder this time. Brooklyn tenses beneath her ropes.

“Pretty big rat,” she whispers. The shuffling cuts off, and the attic goes silent.

I find the nail and stand, inching toward the noise. It came from the far corner of the attic, directly above the empty room where Alexis pulled out her own hair. The floor over there is bare, empty. It’s kind of strange—Riley’s magazines and cosmetics pack every corner of the attic. Except that one.

I kneel on the floor next to the wall.

“Is something there?” Brooklyn hisses. I hold a finger to my lips, quieting her. There is something, but it’s quiet enough that I couldn’t hear it across the room. The noise sounds familiar now. It’s a low, rasping sound that I can’t quite place.

I lean into the wall and press my ear against the wood. I recognize the noise now.

Breathing.

I yank my face away from the wall and dart back, an animalistic survival instinct kicking in. My entire body tenses to run.

Then my brain catches up. Someone’s hiding back there, watching us. I narrow my eyes, and I lift a hand to the wall. It’s too dark up here to see, but I feel a shift in the wood. A door.

“Sofia, what the hell?” Brooklyn hisses. I wedge the crooked nail into the narrow opening. The door creaks open, revealing a shadowy, cramped crawl space. Two eyes blink in the darkness. I startle as Grace moves into the dim attic light, her skin ashen. Sweat gathers beneath her hairline.

“Grace, you scared me half to death!” I say.

“Riley made me,” she whispers before I get the chance to ask her what she’s doing. “She wanted to see what you would do when you were alone.”

My throat goes dry. “Why?” I ask. The sound of the attic door falling open interrupts us, and Riley appears at the top of the ladder. She glances at Brooklyn’s ropes and the crooked nail in my hands.

“Why do you think?” Riley says.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


I back away from Grace’s crawl space, dropping the nail. It hits the floor with a soft ping, then rolls to a stop next to Brooklyn’s knee. Riley follows it with her eyes.

“What were you doing, Sofia?” she asks. Grace crawls out of her hiding space and inches along the back wall to the alcove by the door.

Brooklyn collapses against the beam, and her face slackens. The hope drains out of it, leaving her cheeks sunken. Her hair forms stiff blond spikes that stick out from her head like thorns.

“Just let me go,” she whispers, digging her fingernails into the wooden floor. “Please.”

Riley ignores her pleading. “You were going to untie her,” she says to me, taking a step closer. Brooklyn gasps, releasing jagged bursts of air that make her chest heave. A tear crawls down her cheek.

The dark of the attic paints Riley’s face black and gray. Her cheeks and eyes look hollow, her skin ashen. I step away from her, but the wall with the window is directly behind me. I press my hands flat against the cold glass. Outside, the wind howls.

“Riley, I . . .”

“You were going to let her go!” Riley slaps me across the face. I gasp, and pain spreads through my cheeks. Grace cringes, staring at the floor. She won’t meet my eyes.

“What did you think would happen?” Riley continues. “That you and Brooklyn would race downstairs and run off with your boyfriends?”

“Please,” Brooklyn begs, and in that second I hate her. I want to cry and beg and fall apart. But instead I stare into Riley’s icy, empty eyes and try to be strong. Brooklyn inhales and mouths the word without making a sound. Please.

Riley slaps me again. I cringe against the sting of her hand.

“Do you think I didn’t know you texted them? That I didn’t hear you fumbling with the phone in the basement? I know everything, Sofia!”

How? I want to ask. How do you see everything, know everything? I wonder briefly if she installed security cameras when she nailed all the windows shut, but even that doesn’t explain how she seems to see inside my head, how she knows what I’m thinking and feeling.

“Riley,” I gasp, lifting a hand to my cheek. “I’m . . .”

“Shut up! Don’t you see? God wanted this to happen. He wanted you to fail so you’d understand that the only way out of this house is through him.”

Riley’s face crumples and she sinks to her knees. “I knew this would happen,” she says, her hands trembling as she lifts them to her face. “I tried so hard to keep us all strong, but I knew, I knew one of us would fall! Now it’s up to me to bring you back. ”

I watch Riley for a long moment before I realize she’s crying. Brooklyn stares at Riley’s shaking shoulders, her eyes reflecting the same anger I felt moments ago. Riley doesn’t deserve to cry. She hasn’t earned it.

A warm yellow glow appears at the door in the floor. The ladder creaks, and the glow comes closer. Riley straightens and wipes her eyes. Alexis appears at the ladder holding a thick white candle.

“Where’s the knife?” Riley asks, her voice steady. The skin around her eyes is slightly red, but otherwise there’s no sign she was crying.