The Throne (Prince Harry fanfic #6)

Chapter Thirty

The banging in her head wasn't the worst part; in fact, she was used to the pain. It was no different than the normal pain she felt. It was just another banging experience. However, she wasn't used to the pain that came when she breathed in and out and how much air she needed. Her heart thundered in her chest, bursting in her ears. It was all she heard, beside her own creaking intake of air. Besides that, it was silent.

Somewhere wet, she realized, and she was on the cold ground with concrete. She sniffed around, but there was only mold she smelt. It didn't smell like ocean water, so somewhere in land perhaps. Sucking in another deep breath, vomit threatened to come up, and it did. It spilt out of her mouth and onto her clothes and concrete beside her. From her retching, she heard her sounds bounce off the walls. Concrete surrounded her, and she suspected be in someone's basement.

"Hello," Lucy whispered, only be greeted with her own voice and no airflow. Yes, she was in a basement.

Pain threatened to kill her as she moved her legs around. Her fingers curled into the wall as she tried to stand. Lucy didn't make it to her knees before falling around. She was greatly incapacitated. With the complete darkness, she had no way to escape and didn't have the energy to find an exit. However, if they brought her here, she highly doubted they would've allowed her to escape easily.

After all, she was alive. Duchess Lucille of Windsor was alive. They wanted to keep her alive. They were going to use her for something. They didn't kill her on sight and they didn't kill her now. But they wouldn't keep her forever. It took far too much energy to keep someone forever, and none of these people were sadists. Well, maybe one was. But these people worked as a group, so they weren't going to kill her yet. If these people were repeat offenders, Lucy was a big fish. No, these people were different.

"Hello," Lucy tried again.

Silence filled the air.

Her fists hit the ground. "I'm awake now, motherfuckers. What do you want?"

Silence stayed.

"You want something. I'm alive. Come and get it."

Was it money? No because contact already would've been made, right? Taking money from others only work when it was quick. These people had kept her for... how long had she been here? Lucy mouth was dry and so was the blood on her clothes, but the room was damp. The longer they kept her for money, they became stupider. No, they wanted something else from her.

"Anti-monarchists?" she asked aloud. "Are you anti-monarchists?"

Silence followed.

Perhaps she talked to nothing. They couldn't hear her, and they wouldn't respond. They waited.

"Fuckers, I have a schedule to keep. Let's go. Tell me what you want?"

It occurred to Lucy that she was supposed to be scared. Perhaps she was supposed to act scared, but she was truly supposed to be terrified. Someone had taken her. Tony was shot--

Tony, the name echoed in Lucy's head. Tony. Tony. Tony. Tony.

Tony was shot. Lucy tried to recall those moments before, when Tony had been shot twice. He fell, and he didn't move. Tony was dead. His children and his wife, they must have been devastated. Was he still lying there? No, Lucy decided, because people had to know she was gone. Even if she had been in this room for an hour, someone heard those gunshots, right? Someone went investigating, right? Someone called the coppers, right?

Lucy's guard was dead, but maybe he wasn't. Lucy hoped. Maybe the five men took it and left quickly. Someone came and Tony was still breathing. Tony went into surgery. Tony would've survived. Tony would've told people what happened. No, he was in surgery and would've been for a while. Lucy had been shot. She knew how long it took. No one would've looked in the right direction for a while.

You're stupid, Lucy almost said aloud to herself. CCTV cameras, they are everywhere.

How smart are these anti-monarchists? They had to be planning this for a while, right?

Shifting again, Lucy tried to stand. Her feet planted on the ground, and it was the first time Lucy realized she had been stripped. Her feet were bare. As she focused on her skin, vomit had indeed spilt onto her remaining clothing, which was on her bra and underwear. Stilling, Lucy felt herself and breathed deeply. She focused on her privates, to realize there was nothing sore. Lucy touched her underwear, and they were dry. They didn't touch her, except to her take her clothing off. These animals wanted her to feel helpless, so they left in her underwear and bra.

Coldness threatened to break her, but Lucy came from the cold, Minnesotan through and through. Coldness wouldn't hurt her, when she was used to it as home.

Lucy heaved herself up and onto her feet. Knees shaking, her fingers touched the wall as she went to the left. She felt up and down on the concrete wall, feeling for a way out. Wetness clawed at her feet, the more she went left, and then she touched a corner. She was most likely in a square room. Lucy continued her walk around the room, feeling the wall.

A ridge went under her fingertips, and she stopped. Her fingers went up. Lucy traced the outline of her door, all the way around. Having to be smart about it, Lucy put her ear to the wooden door and listened. There was silence. Her fingers found the knob, and Lucy hoped she was lucky.

Pulling on the door, Lucy wasn't lucky. She was stuck inside, because her captures locked it.

Lucy had two choices: wait until they came back and they would come, or try beat down the door and hopefully escape. If intelligent, Lucy would've done the first one. Lucy did the latter.

Throwing her body into the door over and over again, what was more pain? Her shoulder felt out of place, but she rammed it into the door over and over. Lucy thought she heard it shift, and she went at it again. Lucy used her whole body this time, shoving it forward. Her legs kicked out. Anger built up in her. Suddenly Lucy's whole body buzzed and awoke. She forced her body into the door over and over again, and then the door opened.

Blinding her, light poured in. Lucy stood back. Eyes watered. Holding her up to the bright light, Lucy tried to focus on what was in front of her. She didn't need to focus long. Lights above her came up, blinking. The buzzing from Lucy's body filled the room, coming from the lights.

One after another, people filed in, seven of them, two more than what was in the alley. Maybe the other two drove the getaway car. The man with the gun stepped forward again. This time he didn't wear anything to cover his face. Lucy knew what that meant: she wasn't getting out of here alive.