Chapter 829
The kitchen doors shuddered again. The wood splintered around the hinges.
“They’re breaking in!” Victoria shrieked, backing away until she hit the prep table.
I looked around frantically. No exits. No windows. Just stainless steel and the smell of burning sauce.
Then I saw it in the corner, next to the walk-in freezer.
A heavy-duty industrial service lift.
It wasn’t a small dumbwaiter for plates; it was a floor-to-ceiling cargo lift meant for rolling entire carts of banquet food between floors. It was stainless steel, cold, and narrow, but it was our only way out.
“Get in,” I ordered, pointing the knife at the sliding metal doors.
Victoria hesitated, staring at the dark metal box. “I have claustrophobia, Skye! I can’t!”
“You can suffocate in a box for five minutes, or you can be beaten to death by a man in a rubber mask,” I said, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward it. “Choose.”
R𝘦𝘢𝗱 𝘧𝗋𝗼𝗆 𝘺𝗈u𝘳 р𝗁𝗈𝗇е 𝗼𝘯 ga𝗅𝗇𝗈v𝘦𝗅𝘀.𝘤𝗼𝗆
She sobbed but didn’t fight me.
I shoved her into the cargo lift. She curled into a ball in the corner, knees to her chest, hyperventilating.
“Move over,” I hissed.
I squeezed in beside her. Even with the larger size, it was a tight fit for two people. My dress bunched up, the tassels catching on the metal walls. I had to contort my body, wrapping my legs around hers just to fit.
I hit the button for the top floor.
The gears groaned. The box jerked, then slowly began to ascend.
Through the crack in the doors as we rose, I saw the kitchen doors burst open. Two wolves rushed in. One of them looked straight at the lift shaft just as we passed the ceiling tiles.
Darkness swallowed us.
The shaft smelled of grease and old dust. The only sound was the rattling of the chain and Victoria’s ragged breathing.
“I can’t breathe,” she gasped. “The walls… they’re crushing me.”
“Look at me,” I whispered in the dark, finding her hand and squeezing it hard enough to hurt. “Focus on my voice. Bianca wants fear. She’s feeding on it. Don’t give her a crumb.”
“Why is she doing this?”
“Because she’s bored,” I said coldly, “and because she thinks we’re weak. She’s just a puppet, Victoria. The real monster is pulling her strings.”
The lift jolted to a halt.
I pushed the doors open. We spilled out into a carpeted hallway.
15th Floor. Housekeeping and guest suites.
It was dead silent here. The plush carpet swallowed sound. The sconces on the walls cast long, eerie shadows.
“Up,” I whispered, pulling Victoria to her feet.
We moved down the hall, checking doors.
Locked. Locked.
The third one was ajar. A housekeeping cart was parked outside.
I pushed Victoria inside and followed, locking the deadbolt and shoving a heavy armchair under the handle.
“Safe,” I breathed, leaning against the door. “For a minute.”
Victoria slid down the wall, burying her face in her hands.
I ignored her breakdown. I needed intel.
I grabbed the remote and turned on the wall-mounted TV, muting it instantly.
The local news was on. The anchor was smiling, talking about the weather.
“They don’t know,” I muttered. “Nobody knows.”
I pulled out my phone. Still no signal. But the hotel Wi-Fi…
I connected. It was slow, throttled, but it worked.
I opened a browser. My fingers flew across the screen, navigating to the dark web portal Travis Tate had shown me a few days ago. If Bianca was broadcasting, this is where she’d be.
There it was: a live stream titled The Hunt.
I clicked it.
Bianca’s face filled my screen. She was laughing, reading comments from anonymous users.
“User ‘KillJoy66’ wants to see more blood,” she announced. “Patience, darling. The rats are hiding now.”