The truck ride to New Devon was nothing short of the most awkward car trip Theodora had ever been on. And that was saying something. She and Sam were sat on a thin, narrow bench inside one of Shoreline's gigantic shipping trucks, each sporting a proper bandage over their new bullet wounds, and rocked from side to side when the vehicle rumbled over ancient stone stairways and destroyed them in the process. Sitting across from them were Nadine and Rafe, sitting with a few less inches between them than seemed to be fit for simply business partners. They watched the other pair silently. It seemed, almost ironically, they were two sides of the same coin here in this treasure hunt to the end.
Theodora noisily slurped from a juice box before wiping her mouth and passing it to Sam; something an ex-field medic mercenary said was necessary for getting their blood sugar back up. If they wanted them alive, that was. And with one Drake brother vanished over a cliff, it wasn't as if Rafe had any other back up plans besides the two making his nerves twitch with their incessant juice box-noises. At least they were both feeling a bit better; better to lead him to what was his.
When the truck finally rolled to a hissing stop, there came a knock from the back door and it opened. Sunlight poured into the shipping cabin and all four squinted against the sudden sunlight.
"Move it," said Rafe and motioned for them to get out.
Sam clambered out of the truck and dropped down onto stone, taking a glance around. Shoreline men swarmed Henry Avery's mansion like vermin, dogs and machine guns around every marble-crested corner. The house itself was bigger than any of the others they had seen, towering to the sky with gold spires stretching for the clouds and yawning windows sporting broken glass and tattered drapes. He swallowed nervously before reaching up and wrapping an arm around Theodora's waist to help her down.
She shielded her eyes with her good arm and took in the front door they were being herded towards, a grand entryway of excellence and class. "Someone liked to make a statement," she said. "You think he was compensating for something?"
The corners of Sam's mouth twitched upwards in a tiny smile before Rafe butted the barrel of his pistol between his shoulder blades. "Okay, okay," he said and took a step forward. He cast Theodora a glance before grabbing one of the front door handles and shoving with all his might. It gave easily, to their surprise, and he nearly fell in with it.
The inside of Avery's house looked big enough to give the Rossi Estate back in Italy a run for its money. High, grand ceilings supported by warped beams peered down at them from above and the walls were adorned with paintings faded by the force of time that had seeped into the cracks everywhere else. Staircases on either side of the room trailed upwards and led to whatever other riches and wonders the pirate had waiting for them. God, even just a few portraits, a candelabra here and a chandelier there, would be worth millions back in the modern era where they all truly belonged.
"Barricade the doors," Nadine ordered her men, and they at once began to grab old chairs and side tables to stack in a haphazard heap against the front doors. They kicked them into place, splintering wood and leaving scuffs along the surfaces that cried out in alarm.
Theodora turned, her shoulder throbbing against the sudden movement, and she raised an arm. "Be careful!" she hissed and snatched up a candlestick one man had been about to shove between the handles. "This is worth more than you and your mother, asshole."
"Keep moving," instructed Nadine and pushed her forward. She stumbled back into place beside Sam, still clutching the golden candlestick to her chest, and felt only an ounce of comfort when her arm brushed against his.
Oh, how she wanted to be somewhere far, far away from here. She wanted to be sitting in bed - maybe in some crappy motel room, maybe somewhere she could call home - with no one else but Sam at her side, simply resting. Staring at the ceiling, the stars, one another. The way they used to. God, how she missed that so much, so much her heartstrings panged and she nearly hitched her breath at the sensation. She wished she was there, not here in this horrible place with guns at her back and the brutal death of bleeding out ahead of her. She found it all a bit ironic; she had been obsessed with finding this place her entire life, had always imagined what it would feel like to cross the threshold. Now she just had, and she felt more hollow than satisfied.
"How are you doin', honey?" Sam said, and she blinked a few times at the expansive halls they were tracking their mud through before looking at him.
I want to go home, she wanted to say. She was tired. Tired of playing this game, tired of being brave and snarky and sarcastic like she didn't give a damn about the fact that she had just taken a bullet through the shoulder. But instead she replied, "Like four hundred million dollars."
They were forced to lead Rafe, Nadine, and the Shoreline crew through the gigantic house of gold and encrusted wonders, most of which the mercenaries were ordered to take from their pedestals and pack tightly into crates awaiting more and more treasure. They pulled down paintings along the way, per Rafe's barking orders, then glass vases, medallions, anything and everything they could get their hands on. But the grand treasure itself was nowhere to be found.
Theodora found herself standing in Avery's office, a room set in a round, column shape attached to the side of the mansion. Still clutching the golden candlestick securely, she wandered over to the red velvet chair at the massive desk the size of her bed back home and took a seat. The throbbing in her shoulder seemed to be spreading, now extending down to her legs, and she felt for a moment like she was going to be sick. How dumb would she feel doing that? Throwing up in Henry Avery's office and staining the carpets? Like a bumbling idiot, was how dumb.
Rafe grumbled beneath his breath when it became apparent the big take wasn't hidden somewhere in this tiny office. He grabbed Sam, who had been examining the countless books lining the shelves on the walls, by the collar of his shirt and pulled him around to face him. "Alright, then, expert," he said. "Where is it?"
Sam shrugged a stiff shoulder, hands raised in surrender. "Like I know," he replied. "You'd think if I did, we would still be movin'."
"Stop being a smartass, or I'll start shooting again and you won't like what comes from it."
Theodora glanced back over her good shoulder to the door leading back out to the main hall of the upper floor. She knew, trusted, that Nathan had survived the fall into the river. He was a big boy, she told herself, he could've handled something like that. Hell, they'd all handled tougher things these last few weeks than taking a tumble into a muddy stream. He would come after them. But he would need signs.
She was sure to wait until neither Rafe nor Nadine were facing her before lifting the collar of her shirt and sticking her fingers beneath the bandage taped there. A nearly silent hiss escaped her throat and her wound thundered painfully as she dipped the tip of her finger inside, just past the edge, and coated it with blood. Withdrawing, she looked back again, then leaned forward and spun a yellowing globe sitting on the desk until Madagascar was staring back at her. She touched the small island, just where they were at that very moment, and left a small, bloodied fingerprint behind.
She startled backwards when the floor rumbled just on the other side of the desk and a panel began to slide open and reveal a set of stone stairs. They descended down into a piercing darkness that stared deep into her very self. Everyone looked back. A Shoreliner had been tugging on a tusk attached to a boar's head mounted on the wall. Apparently some of them weren't as dumb as they appeared.
Nadine helped haul Theodora to her feet, rather roughly, and shoved her forward so that she and Sam were the first to enter. They exchanged a look and without the need to even glance down, their hands drifted together and intertwined, boats lost on an ocean with only each other to guide their way. Hold on tight, their grip seemed to say. And they vanished down into the dark.
YOU ARE READING
lie to me → s.d.
Fanfiction" aren't you supposed to be dead?" " aren't you supposed to be my girl? " in which theodora thatcher must come to terms with the fact that her ex, after a tragic accident, is still alive and begging her to save his life one mo...
