REDEMPTION (THE LONDON CRIME KING)

PROLOGUE

I dreaded the sound of his heavy-duty boots beating against the hard floor. Each determined, stealth-like step intensified innermost fears and anxieties. He was here this morning, his corpulent body on mine, his greedy hands cleaved to my sweaty skin, his low, throaty voice hot to my ear. It's unlike him to return to the basement twice in one day to demand more.

Snatching the filthy threadbare blanket over my head, I laid motionless with bated breath, the thumping, muscular organ beneath my rib cage plunging to the depths of my empty stomach.

Please fall down the stairs, I thought, tasting salty tears on my dry lips. Let him miss a step and plummet to his death to relieve me from a life of solitary darkness and inhumane shackles.

His footsteps stopped. I felt his intense stare roam over me and curled my toes, tucking my feet under the blanket away from the evilness that glinted in his eyes.

A tired, breathless sigh blew from his mouth.

Praying that he will forget I exist and move on, I closed my eyelids.

"Alexa, I know you are awake," said a familiar voice, and my pinched eyes snapped wide. "Please come out."

For a long moment, I remained under the safety of the duvet, wondering if perhaps the sound of Kathy's voice was a misconception. Her closeness, a mystifyingly phantasmagorical encounter, one that I had dreamt and wished to see for countless days, or has it been months? Years?

I had lost count a long time ago.

"What if you're not real?" I whispered, chewing my fingernails. "What if I come out and you're not there?"

"I'm real." She settled beside me on the floor, the protruding mattress springs complaining as she shifted for comfort. "Alexa." She gingerly eased the blanket from my iron grip. "I'm real."

I caught a throaty sob in my hand. "Where were you?" Bolting upright, I swiped sweat-slicked hair from my face and, lowering the blanket to meet her soft gaze, threw my arms around her. I sniffled into the groove of her neck. "I have missed you so much."

"I missed you, too." Tucking hair behind my ears, she kissed my cheek. "Guess what?"

My hands clung to her back. "What?"

"We are getting out of here."

"What?" I eased back and stared into her hazel-coloured eyes, the same eyes that mirrored mine. "How?"

It's an impossible task. There is no way out of this horrible place. I have tried many times and repeatedly failed.

"How did you get down here?" At the top of the stairs, I eyed the steel door in loathing. "Does he know?"

"No." Her two rough fingers pressed on my chapped lips. "We must be quiet."

Considering our depressingly unfortunate circumstances, her decent appearance, warm knitted clothing, flushed cheeks, and braided hair surprised me. I ran my sweaty palms over the stained nightgown he forced me to wear. I had begrimed toenails, and my hair reeked of stale vomit and other bodily odours. "We can't leave," I croaked, using the back of my hand to remove the consistent ooze trickling from my nose. "I have tried, Kathy, but I never make it past the hallway before one of them catches me and drags me back down."

Sometimes I wonder if those men, the monsters above, leave the door unlocked like a sick, twisted, misleading game, allowing me to believe freedom awaits when, in actuality, I entertain them with my desperate struggles because there isn't a way out of this mess.

"They are asleep." Her hopeful eyes flickered to the ajar door. "This might be our only shot, Alexa." Soaring to her feet, she extended an arm, silently asking me to take her hand. I warily slipped my palm over hers, and she helped me stand. "We can do this," she assured confidently, lingering a kiss on my forehead. "We can get out of here."