Chapter 1
1. Leonardo Hammond
The mountain rain fell in fitful, pattering bursts. The trail had been turned slick and soupy by the downpour, mud clinging to loose gravel, giving way beneath every step. Leonardo Hammond walked at the front, driving his trekking pole hard into the mud with a force that seemed intent on ramming straight through the mountainside. This was his idea of how a “formidable” man should carry himself. He was not an especially tall man, yet he exuded an oppressive aura, every step bold and unyielding. The two people behind him could do nothing but follow in his wake, matching his pace step for step.
“Alfie, hurry up. What’s with the dragging of feet? You forget to eat?”
He didn’t even turn his head as he snapped the order, his voice wrapped in the damp, cold wind, thick with unmasked scorn. The end of the sentence lifted in a sharp sneer, like a needle pricking at the listener’s ears.
Almost at once, Alfie Moore replied from behind him, his voice so quiet it was nearly swallowed by the wind. He scrambled to quicken his pace, his trousers soaked through at the cuffs, yet his shoulders remained hunched, his head bowed so low he seemed to want to curl himself into nothing.
Leonardo Hammond glanced back over his shoulder and scoffed, the mockery in his voice sharpening into cruelty. “Look at you, useless thing. Hiking this trail like a dung beetle pushing its ball. No wonder your grades are always too pathetic to show anyone.”
He laughed for a moment, then deliberately slowed his steps, waiting for Helena Pierce to catch up. His gaze swept over her face, then darted away just as quickly. Helena wore a form-fitting hiking jacket, her long wine-red hair tied back in a sharp ponytail, the line of her side profile delicate and striking. She hurried forward to catch up with Leonardo, never once glancing at her husband Alfie beside her, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on Leonardo’s back, her steps tight on his heels.
Alfie was not blind, yet he acted as though he saw nothing at all. His eyes stared blankly at the mud beneath his feet, his only action walking. His fingers clamped white-knuckled around the hiking strap, his knuckles bleached white, yet his face betrayed not a flicker of emotion.
The clouds grew thicker, the rain falling harder, cold against their faces enough to raise goosebumps. Leonardo glanced up at the ink-black, seething sky and cursed under his breath. Young people were always glued to their phones, and it irritated him to no end. So he’d made Alfie and Helena leave theirs in the car, keeping only his own on him for the offline map and emergency contact. Now he held the phone aloft, searching for a signal, when his foot slipped on a loose shale slab at the cliff edge.
Leonardo plummeted downward. Instinctively, he flailed out, his hand closing around Helena, who had been walking right behind him. Neither had time to scream before they both tumbled over the cliff face. The only phone went flying from his grip, vanishing into the thick undergrowth in an instant.
Weightlessness closed around them, screams trapped in their throats as loose rock clattered down alongside their tumbling bodies.
Alfie couldn’t jump out of the way in time. He was dragged down with them, his body slamming hard into the mud, a searing pain exploding through his lungs.
By some miracle, none of the three had fallen off the cliff entirely. Instead, they had crashed into a hidden karst cave. The cave was already dim, now filled with dust and debris, shattering the thin stream of weak daylight filtering through the opening above. Leonardo Hammond was the first to push himself up, brushing mud and dust off his clothes. He blinked hard, adjusting to the gloom, then frowned and stared upward. The cave mouth hung six or seven meters above them, narrow, its walls smooth and slick, not a single handhold to be found. He jumped up on a protruding rock, but the attempt only drove home the full weight of their despair.
Ignoring the stinging scrapes covering his body, and the sight of Helena Pierce beside him, her face white with pain, her breathing ragged, he narrowed his eyes and scanned the full expanse of the cave.
Though the entrance was no bigger than the mouth of a well, the cave inside was vast, a hidden world unto itself. But for all its size, there was no other way out. It was nothing less than a pitcher plant carved from stone.
No rescue, no supplies, no way to contact the outside world except by shouting. All that surrounded them was the thick, damp stench of earth, and the faint sound of running water from deep within the cave.
This was a death trap.
For all his tight-lipped silence, there was not a trace of panic on Leonardo’s face. He merely reined in the inherent arrogance and cold hardness of his demeanor, if only slightly. He turned to Alfie Moore, still curled on the ground, too afraid to stand, and the faint, mocking scorn in his eyes hardened into icy scrutiny and disdain.
“Get off the ground,” he snapped at Alfie, his voice low, thick with unchallengeable authority. “Get up now, and take a look at where the hell we are.”
With that, he turned again, glancing briefly at Helena Pierce, splayed out on the stone slab, unable to move, a long gash raked across her cheek. He hesitated for half a second, then his gaze darted away just as quickly, and he did not spare her another look.
2. Alfie Moore
Pain erupted first along his spine, then detonated through his entire ribcage.
The impact of hitting the ground had knocked the breath clean out of Alfie, and for a long moment he didn’t dare breathe. He stayed curled on the mud, the tip of his nose scraped raw, his nostrils full of the stench of mold and mossy grass, his ears still ringing with the echo of tumbling rock.
He needed a moment. He couldn’t move, not yet.
“Hey! You deaf?!”
Leonardo’s shout hit him first, hard and unyielding as the hopeless reality closing in around them. Alfie tried to draw a breath, then slowly pushed himself up, his movements slow and cautious, his shoulders still slightly hunched, like an animal long accustomed to being taunted.
His elbows, his sides, his knees—all were scraped raw, but nothing was broken. It was a miracle, all things considered. But he didn’t tend to the wounds, didn’t let a flicker of pain cross his face, didn’t even look at them. He just kept his head bowed, his body hunched, his gaze instinctively falling first to the mud-caked toes of his shoes.
The cave was not bright, but his eyes had adjusted enough. He lifted his head, following the faint stream of light, and glanced up toward the cave mouth, unobtrusive.
It had to be seven or eight meters high, at least.
The rock walls were smooth, the circle around the opening covered in slick moss, with barely a protruding ledge to stand on.
They were well and truly trapped, like frogs at the bottom of a well.
Alfie dully pulled his gaze away from the opening, letting it fall on Helena Pierce, not far away. She was whimpering, having landed badly on a hard rock, her injuries clearly severe. Her lips were deathly pale, the color bleeding through from beneath her lipstick, her hands clamped tight around one leg, the gash on her cheek glaringly bright against her skin. Her hair was a wild mess, her carefully applied makeup half run off her face. She frowned, her jaw clenched tight, glancing first at her leg, then instinctively toward Leonardo Hammond.
Alfie acted as though he hadn’t seen a thing, his gaze sliding calmly away. He swept his eyes around the cave, and finally, they too settled on Leonardo.
Leonardo was standing in the center of the cave now, surveying his surroundings. There was a flicker of frustration in his face, but still no panic—only a stubborn, unyielding rage, a refusal to accept the hand he’d been dealt. He felt Alfie’s gaze on him and turned, his eyes still sharp with the same contempt and mockery they always held.
When their eyes met, Alfie immediately dropped his gaze, keeping his posture meek, cowed, as though he wanted to bow but didn’t dare. He looked like a man who’d been scared out of his wits: a helpless underling, a man who barely existed at all.
It was an underling’s reflex.
From Leonardo’s assessment, there was no way out of here. Hunger hadn’t set in yet, fear was only just beginning to creep in, but serious injury and despair were already a certainty.
Alfie stayed where he was, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. Then, the pinky finger of his left hand curled, ever so slightly.
From deep within the cave, the faint, soft sound of running water drifted toward them.
3. Helena Pierce
The pain was indescribable.
A searing, gnawing agony spread up her left leg, racing through her veins and boring deep into the marrow of her bones. She’d never given birth, but she imagined this must be what it felt like. Helena Pierce bit down hard on her lower lip, trapping the screams building in her throat.
She was propped against the cold, rough rock wall now, all the strength drained from her body by the pain. Her once-sharp ponytail had unraveled into a matted mess, caked with mud and stuck to her cheeks, the gash on her face contaminated with dirt, stinging and itching fiercely. Her hiking jacket had been torn to shreds by the rock, and she felt like a shattered porcelain vase, left with nothing but ruin and all-consuming agony.
In the split second she’d fallen, she’d scrabbled desperately for something to hold onto, but her fingers had closed on nothing but empty air. She’d hit the ground hard, her left leg taking the full brunt of the impact. A dull, sickening crack had reached her ears, and then the pain had exploded through her, leaving her body limp, unable to move even a single finger.
She didn’t dare touch the leg. She could only cradle it gently with both hands, the slightest movement sending violent tremors through her body, cold sweat pouring down her face. She could only let out broken, whimpering cries, her voice hoarse and weak, thick with unhidden misery.
In her peripheral vision, Leonardo Hammond stood in the center of the cave, surveying his surroundings, still every inch the man in control. He hadn’t spared her a single glance.
How could he?
Helena’s gaze fixed on him, sharp with instinctive dependence and desperate plea. She prayed he would come over, even if only to look at her injury, to help her clean it, to comfort her, to ask if she was in pain.
But Leonardo never turned around.
She looked then at Alfie Moore, her husband. The man still stood hunched and trembling, like a dog caught eating garbage by its master, his gaze fixed firmly on the mud at his feet. He might as well have been completely indifferent to everything happening around him. Even with his wife lying gravely injured on the ground, he wouldn’t spare her a single look.
He might as well not exist for all his life. Whether he looked or not, it made no difference.
A surge of rage, thick with humiliation and resentment, rose up in her chest. Helena cursed him viciously in her head, her disgust for her cowardly husband deepening even further. He’d always been spineless, meek, living like an insignificant insect, useless at everything. Now that she was trapped in this lightless hell, injured half to death, the man still stood there, aloof, helpless, not a single ounce of responsibility in his body.
Though, if she was being honest, she never would have ended up in this mess if she hadn’t come hiking with Leonardo Hammond. But she didn’t dare blame Leonardo, not even a little. So all her fury, all her resentment, all her bitterness, she heaped onto her husband Alfie Moore.
By now, the storm clouds had mostly cleared, but the sun was setting fast. The light in the cave was fading by the second, damp, frigid air thick with a strange stench pouring through the cracks in the rock, burrowing deep into her bones. Helena couldn’t help but shiver, the pain in her leg only growing worse, not better. She curled into herself, her gaze still fixed unwaveringly on Leonardo’s back. She didn’t dare scream or cry out loud, only letting out stifled sobs every now and then, overwhelmed by pain and fear, utterly helpless.
She had no way of knowing how deep this hell went, no way of knowing when they would be rescued, no way of knowing how badly her leg was really injured. She could only cling to the faint thread of dependence and fantasy she had for Leonardo, forcing herself not to break completely.
As for her husband, not far away? He was already completely forgotten. The man, cowardly to his very core, had never been someone she could rely on. And now, trapped in this hell, he would be just as useless as he’d always been.
That was all there was to it.
TO BE CONTINUED......
