Chapter 35 Octavian
OCTAVIAN
Icatch up to Elizabeth halfway down the corridor and lunge forward, my hand gripping her shoulder. I yank her back, spinning her around and slamming her against the wall.
"Where is she?" I yell, my forearm pressed across her chest.
Elizabeth's eyes are wide, but there's no fear in them, just satisfaction.
"Where she belongs."
My hand moves to her throat before I can think. I squeeze, lifting her off the ground until her toes scrape uselessly against the floor.
"I have no problem ending your life," I say, my voice firm and dark. "And everyone else's here, if that's what it takes to find her."
"You think you can stop it?" she says her face turning red. "You're already too late."
Then she jerks something from her pocket, a knife, and swings at me.
I let her go and jump back, avoiding the blade.
"I'm willing to die for this," she gasps and comes at me again, faster this time.
I twist, narrowly avoiding the blade, then grab her wrist and twist. I use her momentum, redirecting the blade downward, and drive it into her thigh.
She screams and lets go of the knife. I rip it out and she collapses, clutching her leg, her face in agony.
I crouch beside her, the knife still in my hand, her blood dripping onto the floor between us.
"Where is she?"
She spits at me and it lands on my cheek.
I wipe it off slowly, then press the blade against her throat.
"Try again."
Before she can answer, footsteps thunder down the hall from the other end.
Two men round the corner, dressed in black suits, the same ones their security from the gallery were wearing.
I stand as the one on the left pulls a gun. I don't have much time, so I throw the knife at him.
It spins end over end, cutting through the space between us, and buries itself in his throat.
His hand jerks, the gun fires wildly, and the bullet sparks off the ceiling right above me. He stumbles forward, choking, blood bubbling from his mouth.
The second man doesn't slow and pulls his gun, but so do I, and thankfully, I'm faster.
I fire once; the shot echoes like thunder in the narrow hallway.
The man's head snaps back as my bullet pierces his forehead, brain matter and blood spraying across the wall behind him. His body folds in on itself before he hits the ground.
I then hear more footsteps and shouting; at least four, maybe five more coming from the direction I just came.
I don't have time for this.
I spring past the two dead men, leaving Elizabeth cursing and yelling at me on the ground.
Turning the corner, I find the first door and run in, my boots skidding across the marble as I shut the door and run to another door in the room and go through that.
It turns out to be a storage closet. I keep the door cracked and look through, gripping my gun tightly.
One of the men pushes open the door and looks around.
"This way," someone says, and he turns and starts running.
I take a few deep breaths and pull my phone from my pocket and open the tracking app, the glow lighting up my face.
The dot is still there, still green, but the map doesn't help. It just shows me as right above her.
Shit.
I stare at the screen, willing it to give me something useful.
Then the dot moves.
Not much. Just a few feet to the left.
But it's moving.
I make sure the coast is clear and I start following it, my eyes going between checking my surroundings and the screen, my feet constantly moving on instinct.
The hallway twists and turns but I just try to stay above her while moving lower and lower in the hotel.
I end up in a service area, away from the polished marble and chandeliers. It's just bare concrete walls, exposed pipes, and that smell of mildew.
My phone vibrates.
Declan.
I answer it.
"Finally. I've called you three times. You got eyes on Keira?" His voice is sharp, frantic. "The whole building's power went out and back on."
"I'm handling it."
"Octavian, what does that mean? Where the fuck is my sister?"
I hesitate for half a second. Then I lie.
"She's safe. Stay in position unless I call back."
I hang up before he can argue. My stomach knots. I've lied to him. If I fail now, I'll have nothing left to go back to, but I can't let him interfere with this. Not when I'm this close to ending it all.
I keep moving and end up at a stairwell, the door unmarked, half-hidden behind a utility cart.
I hesitate, double-checking the app.
The dot is below me now; it's closer to me than it's been. Do I keep going? Is this the right way?
Fuck.
I look around and something in my gut screams at me to move.
So I do.
I descend the stairs, taking them two at a time, my hand gripping the railing to keep my balance as the metal rattles beneath me.
The air gets colder the farther down I go and Keira's face is all I see.
That moment at the statue, her tension, the way her beautiful green eyes glanced at me like she knew something was coming.
She felt it. Just like I did.
I push the images away, force myself to focus, but they come back relentlessly.
The memory of her body beneath mine, the sounds she made, the way she said my name.
I can't lose her. I won't.
I reach the bottom of the stairwell and stop.
Walls all around me. No doors, no hallways, nothing.
Just solid concrete on all sides. A dead end.
"What the fuck?" I say, spinning in place.
This makes no sense. Why would stairs lead to nowhere?
I check my phone again. The dot is ahead of me, same altitude.
She has to be here.
I press my palm against the wall in front of me and it's solid.
I move to the left, solid.
The right, hollow.
My heart rate spikes.
I drop to the floor and run my hand along the seam where the wall meets the floor. Air moves against my fingers. It's cold and faint, but it's there.
I stand and push on the wall; it gives, but barely.
I push harder, putting my shoulder into it, every muscle straining.
The wall shifts, groaning, and a gap opens wide enough for me to squeeze through. I wedge my body into the gap and shove until I'm free and tumble into darkness.
It takes my eyes a moment to adjust and then I see brick walls, crumbling in places. More exposed piping runs along the ceiling, dripping condensation. The floor is uneven, scattered with debris and God knows what else.
This must be old maintenance tunnels from when the hotel was first built.
I go to pull out my phone to use my flashlight and stop dead in my tracks.
Voices.
Faint, but unmistakable, and they are coming from up ahead.
I pull my gun out and start to move slowly, keeping my footsteps light, my breathing controlled as if they'll hear it.
As I walk the voices get louder and louder.
And then I realize it's some form of chanting.
It's low and rhythmic, almost melodic. I can't make out the words, but the cadence gives it away.
I turn a corner and freeze. The tunnel opens into a room filled with flickering candles.
I duck back behind the wall, pressing my back against the brick, and peer around the edge.
Twelve to fifteen people in red robes and hoods surround an altar-like stone table in the center of the room.
And I see her and my stomach drops.
Keira is bound to this altar, her arms strapped, legs tied. Her dress is torn at the hem, streaked with dirt and blood, maybe.
Rage detonates in my chest and I have to breathe through clenched teeth.
I look up and see that same three-headed statue from the gallery and on some type of walkway that circles around the room, stands a man in a more intricate robe. His hood is pulled low, but I can see his mouth moving, leading the chant.
That has to be the Phantom King.
I grip my gun tighter, weighing my options.
I could charge in now, guns blazing, kill as many as I can before they react, grab Keira and fight my way out, but I'd lose him in the chaos, the man orchestrating all of this.
Or I could wait.
Wait until he comes down. Until he's close enough to put a bullet in his skull and cut the head off the snake and be done with this once and for all.
I clench my jaw. I'll wait.
I'm here. I can keep her safe, I think.
Just a few more seconds. Just long enough to—
Keira screams.
The sound rips through me like someone trying to steal all the air from my lungs.
The Phantom King laughs, the sound low and triumphant, and my control shatters.
Fuck my plan.
Fuck Nicolae.
Fuck the alliance.
Fuck everything.
I charge in, bursting from the shadows like death not caring that I’m going to loose the Phantom King.
My first shot takes out the closest robed figure and I turn and shoot the one next to him as he reaches for a blade.
The room erupts in chaos.
Chanting turns into shouting. One of them rushes me, and I drive my boot into his knee, twist him around, and shoot him in the back.
Another swings, his blade slicing my arm.
I yell and slam the butt of my gun into the side of his face and he falls to the ground.
I look at Keira; her eyes lock with mine, wide with shock, tears streaming down her face.
"Octavian!" she sobs.
"I'm here," I growl, trying to rush toward her.
But another man lunges at me, blocking my path. I slam my elbow into his throat and shoot him as he falls.
I finally get close to Keira and I see it.
Her forearm is bleeding, the skin carved open in a deliberate shape.
An M.
The Morrígan's mark.
Everything inside me goes cold.
Then it ignites as more men rush me and pull me away from her.
I fire. Again. And again.
Each shot finds a target. Chest. Head. Throat.
Bodies fall around me, their screams blending together and falling on deaf ears.
Another robed coward comes at me with a knife and I catch his wrist, twist hard and break his arm. His friend behind him takes a bullet to the chest before someone knocks the gun out of my hand.
I turn to the man's broken arm I'm still holding, yank the knife from him, and slam it right into his eye socket.
At the same time I feel a gash above my right shoulder blade. I turn and see a man swinging a knife at me.
I kick him in the chest and pounce on top of him, striking him twice in the neck with my blade.
"Keira," I yell and run back toward her, my knife ready to cut her bindings, free her, and get the fuck out of here.