23

Marietta had barely touched the meal her captor had brought down for her at lunchtime. All she could think of were his last words. What lay in store for her that night? She felt physically sick with dread, her body numb with fear.

When the cellar door rumbled open some time later she absolutely knew that something out of the ordinary was going to happen. She still had no weapon to defend herself, nor any form of protection; all she could do was what she had done almost every time any of the men had entered the cellar: she sat very upright on the edge of the bed, staring towards the base of the spiral staircase, and waited to see who was coming towards her.

Whoever it was seemed to be carrying something heavy, because she could hear the confused sound of footsteps clattering down the stairs, rather than the measured tread she had grown accustomed to.

A sudden piercing scream, obviously a woman’s, tore through the still air of the cellar, and Marietta jumped. Then she heard a cracking sound that had become only too familiar – the sound of a taser being discharged – and the scream ended as suddenly as it had begun.

Moments later, the guard and one of the other men who’d abducted her stepped into view, dragging the unconscious form of a young woman between them. Neither man so much as glanced towards Marietta as they hauled the body past the end of her open room.

Because of her restricted view, Marietta couldn’t see where they took her, but the sounds she was hearing suggested they had entered the cell right next to her. There was a dull thud, which she presumed was the noise of the men dumping the unconscious girl on a bed, followed by a clanking sound and a click – the handcuff being secured around the girl’s wrist.

After a few seconds, the two men reappeared, and the guard stopped for a moment at the entrance to Marietta’s room.

‘You’ve got company at last,’ he said, an unpleasant sneer on his face. ‘She’s the one we’ve been waiting for. Now we can get started.’

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