21. Robin
Robin
W e race across the moonlit gardens, our footsteps muffled by soft earth. Dimi leads me toward a section of the castle foundations covered in ivy, thick and seemingly impenetrable.
My lungs burn from running, adrenaline making every breath sharp and painful. Above us, the sounds of battle continue to echo through the night—gunfire, shouting, the crash of something heavy hitting stone.
Dimi stops at the ivy-covered wall, his hands searching through the green curtain. When he finds what he’s looking for, he pulls the vegetation aside to reveal an old iron door, secured with a massive, rusted padlock.
“Damn it,” he mutters, examining the lock. Then, without hesitation, he raises his gun and fires.
I flinch instinctively, my heart hammering against my ribs as the echo bounces off stone walls and carries across the grounds.
“Dimi,” I hiss, “they’ll hear?—”
“Can’t be helped,” he says grimly, throwing the remains of the lock away and shouldering the door open. “The ivy should cover us. Now move .”
We plunge into darkness again and then turn on our flashlights once more. Stone steps lead upward into the castle, worn smooth by centuries of passage. But I recognize where we are as soon as we come out at the top—the locked wing where Eva kept her father during his coma.
The memory washes over me: Eva’s vulnerability when I discovered her secret, the way she accused me of being an assassin before her walls cracked and she let me see her heart.
And now, somewhere in this castle, the woman I love is facing professional killers.
I steal a glance at Dimi as we move silently down the passageway. The charming rogue is gone, replaced by someone sharp and deadly. His expression is grim, focused, and for the first time since I’ve known him, I see the Novak blood that runs in his veins.
It’s unsettling. I’ve grown used to his charm, his lazy grins, his outrageous stories. This version of Dimi—hard, dangerous—reminds me that he was raised in the same world as Eva. That violence is as much a part of his DNA as wit and wealth.
We take the servants’ corridor that leads down to the kitchens, moving as quietly as possible on the worn stone steps. But when Dimi pushes open the door at the bottom, the sound of a shotgun cocking makes us both freeze.
The door is yanked open, and we see the cook there with a raised shotgun.
She drops it as soon as she recognizes us, but her face remains tight.
The kitchen has been transformed into a fortress—heavy wooden tables barricaded against the doors, staff members clutching whatever weapons they could find.
I see cleavers, iron pans, carving knives, even a meat tenderizer gripped in white-knuckled hands.
The staff whisper urgently to Dimi in their language, gesturing toward the village with obvious relief. He nods, translating for me.
“They’ve called for help. Men from the village promised they were on their way—hunters, farmers, anyone who can hold a weapon.”
We’re not alone. Help is coming. But even as the thought forms, unease follows. How long will it take them to get here? How many soldiers are already inside the castle?
“We can’t stay here,” I tell Dimi. “We have to find Eva and Leon.”
He nods grimly. “I know.”
We leave the barricaded kitchen behind, climbing back into the upper levels of the castle. The familiar corridors feel alien now, transformed by violence into a maze of potential ambush points.
We’re trying to reach Eva’s wing when a lone mercenary spots us from the far end of a hallway. He’s turning, raising his weapon, mouth opening to shout a warning?—
Dimi’s gun cracks once. The man drops instantly, a neat hole between his eyes.
I stare at the body, shocked by the suddenness of it—and the perfect aim. Dimi catches my expression and grins, but it’s not his usual smile. This one has sharp edges.
“I may have been less than honest about my shooting skills during target practice,” he says conversationally. “Had to give young Adrian a fighting chance with Mira, didn’t I?”
Before I can process that, the sound of running echoes through the corridors. Multiple sets, moving fast, heading our way.
“Run,” Dimi says.
We sprint toward Eva’s bedroom, but the sounds of pursuit grow louder—shouts, orders, the metallic click of weapons being readied.
We reach Eva’s door just as the first mercenary rounds the corner at the end of the hallway. Dimi slams the door behind us and locks it, and we immediately shove her heavy wooden dresser against it, our shoulders straining against its weight.
The attack comes after it’s in place. Bullets rip through the thick wood, and the dresser shudders with each impact. The barricade won’t hold much longer. The door is already beginning to splinter, chunks of wood falling away to reveal the barrel of an assault rifle.
“The passage,” I gasp, grabbing Dimi’s arm. “There’s another hidden passage connecting this room to mine.”
His eyes light with understanding, and we dash to the wall where I remember Eva once showed me the concealed mechanism. My fingers find the hidden catch just as the bedroom door finally gives way with a tremendous crash.
We slip through the opening as mercenaries flood into Eva’s room, their shouts echoing off stone walls. The passage closes silently behind us, and our enemies seem to be distracted with the attached bathroom, assuming we fled in there.
In the narrow space between rooms, we pause to catch our breath.
Dimi’s phone provides the only light, harsh LED illumination that throws sharp angles across his face.
He gestures me forward, and we emerge into my old bedroom, then peer cautiously out the main door.
The mercenaries have all moved into Eva’s room down the corridor, ransacking it.
We can hear them shouting to each other, searching for any sign of where we went.
Moving like shadows, we race back down the hall and make our way toward Eva’s study. Every step feels too loud, every breath too visible, but we reach the familiar door without being spotted.
Inside, Eva’s sanctuary feels alien in the darkness. But her laptop glows on the sleek desk like a beacon in the blackness. “Damn it,” I mutter, as an idea strikes me. “The electricity’s out.”
He picks up my meaning. “Of course,” he says. “The cameras…” But then he looks at me with hope in his eyes. “The lights are out,” he counters. “But maybe not the electricity?”
We have to try. I move quickly to the computer.
My fingers tremble as I lift the laptop screen, half-expecting password protection to block our access.
But it boots immediately—Eva’s arrogance working in our favor for once.
She felt so safe here at Castle Blacklake that basic security measures must have seemed unnecessary.
The camera feeds flicker to life as I navigate through the system, switching monitors online one by one. It’s thankfully intuitive, and all laid out in English. Corridors, staircases, rooms—suddenly we can see everything.
And what I see makes my breath catch.
Many of the mercenaries are already dead. Bodies litter hallways I recognize, but I’m surprised to find I feel no horror at the carnage.
Better them than the people I love.
Better them than her.
Then Eva appears on one of the screens.
She emerges from another secret passage like a ghost, moving quickly up behind a lone soldier. He never sees her coming. Her blade slides across his throat, and he drops to the floor, clutching at his neck.
I steel myself against the shock. This isn’t the time to be soft. That man would have killed her without a second thought. Would have killed me, killed my siblings, without blinking.
Better him than her.
“Good news,” Dimi says, working at the keyboard still. “I’m sending the feeds to Eva’s and Leon’s phones. Yours too.”
I watch the screens as Eva checks her phone, her face illuminated by the device’s glow. Even through the grainy security footage, I can see her expression shift as she realizes what she’s looking at. She disappears back into the shadows, but now she has eyes everywhere.
At least we’ve given her an advantage. She won’t be fighting blind anymore.
A thought strikes me. Where’s Leon?
I keep scanning the monitors, watching mercenaries move through corridors, seeing the bodies of their fallen comrades. Then one particular feed catches my attention.
I freeze, practically feeling the blood drain from my face as I stare at the monitor. What I’m seeing doesn’t make sense. Can’t make sense.
But there it is. I have to believe my eyes.
“What is it?” Dimi’s voice is soft beside me, almost gentle as he takes in my face. “What’s wrong?”
I can’t answer. Can’t breathe. Can only turn to look at Dimi.
He’s watching me with curiosity, raised eyebrows. He takes his attention off me for a moment to look at the security feeds again himself?—
And that’s when I run.
I reach the door, fling it wide open, and run. The enemies in Eva’s room hear the sudden noise and stream back out of her room, shouting and shooting, so I can only hope and pray that no bullets will find me. Behind me I hear Dimi calling me too, shouting my name, shooting back?—
I don’t stop. I run as fast as I can in the direction of the last place I saw Eva: the Great Hall.