Before I Go: A dark and tense psychological crime thriller. by Marie Reyes (the false prince series txt) 📗

didn’t take her long to untie him, and he let out an elated cry when he could move his arms, and felt the blood rushing back to his numb hands. He ripped the hood off of his head, banging his arm on the side of the car in his rush, and pulled hers off. “It’s okay. I’ve got this.” He shimmied back around and got to work on her ropes. His fingers could barely feel them, and he fumbled wildly like a teenage boy trying to unclasp his girlfriend’s bra. Why couldn’t he do it? Why was he so useless? He became more frustrated, and then the car came to a stop. Fuck, he muttered under his breath, yanking at the ropes, probably making them even tighter somehow. Something finally gave, and he managed to pull the strings apart. She rolled over to face him and the car started again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” A tear on her cheek glistened in the darkness.

“Shh. It’s fine.” He didn’t believe that in the slightest.

“We’re going to die. You’re going to die because of me,” she sniffed.

“Hey, don’t talk like that, not yet.” He took her head between his hands. “It’s not over until it’s over.” He wondered where he had pulled that platitude from.

“It’s over.”

“I’m sure I read somewhere once. If you get locked in the trunk of a car, you should kick the headlights out, and then you can stick your hand out through the gap and wave for help.”

For some unknown reason, she snorted with laughter. “Where the hell did you read that?”

“Damned if I know. Who knew that snippet would come in handy?” It was comforting to know that all the time he had wasted watching TV wasn’t all for nothing.

“Don’t you think that’s just the kind of thing that would piss him off even more?”

“I think whoever it is, is already as pissed off they’re gonna get. This is our only chance.”

“Will it even work?” He heard her lightly kick her foot against the end of the trunk. “Shit. We’re stopping again.” She went still, and they lay there, listening. The lid of the trunk flew open and two figures loomed above, the sky behind them tinged purple with the oncoming sunrise.

“Well, I can see you managed to free yourselves. Bravo.” The man clapped. Michael had never been unnerved by someone clapping before. The sound of his hands slapping together rang out in the still morning, and it didn’t stop, but Michael wondered what would happen when it did.

“Samuel!” Julio shouted and chucked the man a shovel he had grabbed from the car.

The man Julio referred to as Samuel, caught the shovel in midair and held it in both hands as Julio slammed the car door shut.

“Get out.” Samuel demanded. Josie lifted herself out of the trunk and Samuel pulled her clear of the car, checking her over. “And you.” He rested the shovel at his feet and pointed his gun at Michael. “We don’t have all day. Vamanos.”

It felt like a dream, like he was paralyzed and no amount of will could force his legs to move.

“I’m not going to ask again.” He turned the gun on Josie, pulling her towards him as he pressed the gun to her chest.

“Okay. Okay.” He scrambled up onto his hands and knees and jumped out. It would appear with the right motivation, anything was possible.

“Bravo. So you’re not completely useless. How does it feel to know your girl has more balls than you?”

“She’s not—”

“Did I ask you to speak?” Samuel spat. He had asked Michael a question, so in a sense he had asked him to speak, but he thought it best not to point that out. This man that stood before him was a good few inches taller than Michael. He wore a dark shirt, his mustache and beard were perfectly manicured and his thick hair slicked back. “Grab the shovel.”

Michael looked down at the shovel on the floor. It would make a good weapon, except Samuel clearly had another purpose for it.

“Am I speaking English? Pick up the shovel already.”

The shovel was heavier than he thought it would be and he hauled it up, considering how much force it would take to cave in this guy’s skull with it, or if he was even capable of such a thing. All eyes were on him, including a third man he hadn’t noticed who got out of the driver’s seat. If he even tried it, he had no doubt he would be riddled with bullet holes before he could even get the first hit in.

“Rapido. Get digging.” Samuel pointed to a spot on the floor. “What are you waiting for?”

.

Chapter Nineteen

The land in front of them was an empty wasteland in the oasis that surrounded it. This was where dreams went to die. Except for the odd bit of garbage, and a shrub here and there, there was nothing. He had imagined dying in his hotel room, air-con on, some relaxing music in the background, all the drinks he could fit inside him, and a comfortable bed to lie on, not this. Digging his own grave in the middle of what looked like an enormous abandoned building site was not what he’d had in mind. He prayed that at least they would shoot him first. Being buried alive was the worst thing he could imagine, that and drowning. A gunshot to the head. It would be messy, but it would be fast. A micro-second of pain, for an eternity of ignorant bliss, sent back to the void from which he came. He couldn’t remember anything before he was born, or anything when he was asleep, besides his dreams, and he assumed it would be like that. He’d come to terms with his own death a long time ago, but the thought of Josie, buried in a shallow grave here, it wasn’t right.

“Dig, faster.” Samuel half-heartedly waved his gun