They were going to die.
Olivia sat huddled on the bench between Orlando and Marco. Her anger at her cousin had shifted into sadness and fear for them all. Her thoughts turned to her mother and Claudia. She hoped that when the authorities told them how she died, they left out the worst of the details. At least her dad wouldn’t know.
Alessandro would, though. Would he take her death as hard as his wife’s? She loved him and couldn’t bear to be the cause of so much pain.
Her knees were drawn up to her chin, and her bound hands were looped around them. Cold, dark water swirled menacingly around the bench’s legs. Their only light came from the single hissing bulb that cast menacing shadows around the room.
She watched in horror as a large rat, its fur black and oily, slithered out of the water and climbed onto a shelf. It looked at them with its beady eyes glinting red in the flickering light before dropping back into the water and swimming toward them. She gestured at the rodent with her hands, but her screams were stifled by the tape over her mouth. Orlando aimed a kick at its head. He missed, and the rat swam closer, undeterred. Marco’s kick hit the mark, and it let out a high-pitched screech before diving under the water.
Holding their breaths, they waited for the rat to resurface, relieved when it did that it squeezed out through a crack over the door to the street. Orlando nodded encouragingly at her, and Olivia returned the gesture, but she knew that rat or no rat, they were still going to die.
She’d heard the demands their captor had made of Alessandro, and she’d heard the anguish in his voice when he’d cried out her name.
It would be the last time she’d ever hear his voice.
After Alessandro’s call, she’d thought their captors would move them from this flooding room. But now she knew that was never going to happen. Alessandro would make the drop, they would flee with his money, and he would get nothing in return but three drowned corpses. They never left witnesses. Just like Katarina and Vanessa, she, Orlando, and Marco were going to die.
Knowing the men weren’t going to come back, at least she could take her gag off and scream for help. She started working away at the heavy tape, the glue pulling painfully at her skin and hair. Orlando and Marco followed her lead.
Scarcely had they succeeded when a sudden loud gurgling came up from the floor. Black water gushed in, creating a dirty white froth that surged ravenously toward them.
“What’s happening?” Olivia asked.
“The storm sewer must be backing up,” Orlando said grimly. “And that door to the street is so tight, this room is going to fill up like a swimming pool.” He struggled to his feet and, now standing on the bench, did his best to assist Olivia, her legs so weak and numb she couldn’t manage it on her own. She stumbled, almost knocking Marco off the bench as he too fought to get up. Stifling a sob, she looked at him helplessly. How could this be happening to them?
The three of them huddled on the bench, hanging on to each other with their bound hands, the freezing black water already swirling around their knees.
How long would it take for the water to bury them? How long would they last?
Oh God, she was so scared. Scared of dying, scared of pain.
Scared of the moment her lungs would fill with water.