Page 48 of Broken Princess
9
Logan
Leaning against the window frame,arms crossed over my chest, I watched and waited. Night had fallen fast upon the estate. No more than two hours ago, the sky was painted with streaks of pink, gold and blood-orange, but now those bright hues had faded into an endless black canvas.
The darkness out here was strange and foreboding; a blackness that seemed absolute. When I focused intently on one spot, I could see a sliver of a crescent moon and a smattering of stars scattered across the heavens, but hardly any of that light seemed to filter down far enough to make a difference.
After glancing at my watch for the hundredth time, I turned away from the window and headed across the room to get a glass of water, making every possible effort to mask the sound of my footfall.
As Gemma told me earlier in the tasting room, Lilith Hall Resort only had one suite left for tonight, so I’d been forced to share with my father. It was a double room with a white barn-style divider door between the two sections, so we couldn’t see each other, but he was still close enough that he might hear me walking around or trying to leave.
I couldn’t have him questioning me about where I was going, so I’d spent the earlier parts of the evening plying him with glass after glass of wine under the guise of taste-testing for my future wedding reception.
Around seven, he finally stumbled up to our room and passed out. Unfortunately for me, he was a light sleeper, even when he was drunk, so I had to wait until he was thoroughly unconscious before I attempted to go anywhere.
On top of that, the estate downstairs was still buzzing, with resort guests enjoying the nightly entertainment, food, and drinks the place had to offer. There was no chance of creeping out past security and into the wine tunnels until everything had died down.
And so I waited.
By ten o’clock, the lively sounds from downstairs had faded, and I could hear my father snoring loudly in his section of the suite. I opened the barn doors to my right, just a crack, and peeked through at him to confirm he was officially down for the count. Then I grabbed a thick jacket and headed out.
There were a few security guards dotted around the place, but they didn’t question me too deeply when they spotted me heading outside. All I had to say was that I wanted to take a nighttime stroll around the gardens and they shrugged and left me alone. Easier than I thought.
It was freezing outside, the type of winter chill that reached right into my bones. As I headed to the back of the winery, I could feel every hair on my body rise with the bite of the cold through my clothes. The crescent moon was behind a cloud now, and it was so dark I could barely see my hands in front of me.
A bitter breeze blew up as I walked, tossing dried leaves against my legs, and the moon slipped out from its cloud, casting an eerie glow over the nearby shrubs as they bent in the wind. Ahead of me, half-hidden in the gloom, was the wine tunnels. They’d been cut into a hillside covered with a thick blanket of foliage.
A large oak door guarded the entrance. I expected to find it bolted shut, but it creaked open as soon as I pressed one hand against it.
“Weird,” I muttered as I stepped inside.
The tunnel was hemmed in by perfectly-arched stone walls. Wooden chandeliers carved to look like deer antlers hung from the high ceiling, bathing the space in soft golden light, and smooth oak racks with bottles hung on one side. On the other, there was a polished marble tasting table littered with sparkling decanters and glasses. Further down, stacks of barrels lined the walls.
I headed down the tunnel as quickly as I could. It was impossible to shove aside the worries corrupting my mind as I ventured deeper and deeper, but I gritted my teeth and tried my best to block it all out for the time being. Dread and paranoia wouldn’t help Willow. I had to stay strong for her, had to keep believing she was still alive and well in that mysterious old manor on the other side of the tunnel.
About a mile in, the light went away. I used my phone to guide the way, and ten minutes later I found the old side tunnels. From what Gemma had told me earlier, I needed to take the right-hand one with the hardwood door.
I pushed on the door and found it unlocked, just like the main tunnel entrance. With a clenched jaw, I went into the shadows and down the narrow path enclosed by dark weaves of wood and moss-covered stone, past barrels wrapped with years of dust and spiderwebs, through smells of cold, dank earth and layers of dead leaves. The deeper I went, the darker it got, until the light from my phone barely even penetrated the pitch surroundings.
About five minutes into the older tunnel, I started to hear odd noises from up ahead. Then an orange glow pierced the blackness, hovering around seven feet in the air. A flaming torch.
Shit.
I switched my phone light off and blindly felt my way around the darkness until I found an alcove behind a series of old barrels. I crouched there in the dirt, just like that unlucky girl I heard about earlier, and I waited with bated breath, heart threatening to pound right out of my chest.
I heard footsteps now. The light drew closer and closer, and soon three figures came into view. They were dressed in familiar black cloaks, and their faces were hidden under matching black masks. One of them was holding the flickering torch high in the air, guiding the group through the darkness.
I pulled my jacket hood all the way over my head and sank back as far as I could, keeping my face down as the people drew closer. When they passed, I caught a few fragments of their conversation. Something about a girl and an auction being brought forward due to massive interest. Then something about millions of dollars, followed by a name.
Rhoades.
Panic spread through me like a blast of icy-cold air as I finally put two and two together. Earlier, Gemma mentioned hearing about an auction somewhere in the area. Now I had a good idea of what that auction was. My mother and her cronies were selling Willow to the highest bidder.
Tonight.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered through clenched teeth, breath turning ragged as I pictured Willow standing on an auction block, face pale and tearstained, body bruised and bloodied.
The shadow council members vanished into the other side of the tunnel, unaware of my presence. I waited until the echoes of their footsteps had died down, and then I slipped out from the alcove and ran like mad.
