Chapter 2 #2
Mason didn’t move a step farther inside. The warning bells in his head began to toll even louder as he realized that he no longer felt his magic. His heart started to thud like a drum against his ribs as he became hyperaware of everything around him.
“We’re going to ensure you get everything you deserve. Aren’t we, lads?” Thomas asked, his voice taking on a deadly note.
Suddenly, James cut his eyes to Mason’s left.
It was the only warning he got before all hell broke loose.
A hidden door to the left flew open, and a man ran out.
Adrenaline rushed through Mason as he raised his hands to call to his magic, but there was no answer.
The man rammed a shoulder into his stomach, knocking the breath from him and shoving him backward into the doorway.
Mason drove his elbow into his assailant’s neck to loosen his hold, then grabbed the man and held him down before jamming his knee into the man’s face, knocking him out.
Mason shot a look toward Thomas to find all four men watching him intently. If he didn’t know better, he might think this was some kind of test. There was nothing friendly about this. He had been brought here to be killed.
The snick of a door unlatching to his right caused Mason to swing around to find another concealed door opening.
This time, a woman rushed him. Once more, he tried his magic.
And once again, it didn’t answer. He wasn’t in the habit of hitting women, but he wouldn’t stand there and wait to be struck either. This was life or death.
She was on him in an instant, knocking into him with the force of a battering ram.
Her knee drove viciously into his side. He gasped, and almost immediately, another strike clipped his temple.
The room spun as he tried to pivot. She looped her arm around his neck to drag him back, but he had been trained for worse.
He twisted sharply to his left and slammed his elbow into her ribs.
She gasped, loosening her hold just enough.
Mason used his momentum and dropped low, throwing his weight forward and flipping her over his shoulder.
She hit the floor with a hard thud. He whirled around, chest heaving and blood pounding in his ears.
He tried to back out of the room, but the first attacker came at him again.
Mason heard footsteps behind him, seconds before the woman and another man were on him.
The weight of all three sent him stumbling forward. He felt pressure at his side and was taken to the ground. Someone landed a hard blow to his thigh as he struggled to shake off his adversaries, throwing punches, kicking, and elbowing anything near him.
He backhanded the woman, but it took more effort than it should have. Mason then leveled the man nearest him with a solid punch. His attacker grunted before staggering to the side and falling against the wall, sliding to the floor.
The last man smiled excitedly while wiping blood from his lip.
Mason dodged a sharp jab to his head and landed what should have been a solid hit to the man’s stomach, but it barely registered.
Mason knew something was very wrong. He wasn’t going to be able to last much longer at this rate.
Thinking quickly, he grabbed his attacker, and they rolled until he was on top.
Mason pulled up every ounce of energy he had and struck him in the throat.
His assailant started coughing and choking as he wheezed for breath.
“Kill him,” Thomas demanded.
Before Mason could stand, the woman plowed into him.
They rolled into the hall, where the walls prevented either of them from moving freely.
The moment he was outside the room, his magic surged, fluid and radiant, into his palms. He directed it at her head as she pulled out a small revolver.
The force of his strike caused her skull to bounce off the side of the wall with a sickening thud before she slumped over, eyes open and empty.
There was no time for rest as the sound of quick footsteps came from within the room. Mason looked toward the door to realize he and the woman had traveled several feet down the corridor in their fight—and it just might have given him an advantage. Right now, he needed everything he could get.
Mason pulled himself to his feet with shaky arms and unsteady legs, far weaker than he should have been.
He took a step toward the room to confront Thomas when he felt a pull on his left side.
He looked down to find his shirt soaked in blood.
Pain exploded through him then, and every breath was like fire singeing his veins.
“Fuck,” he murmured.
“Oh, Maaaaaason.”
Thomas’s voice floated to him, soft and lilting like a friend beckoning to another. But beneath the placid tone was something colder, sharper. It made Mason’s skin crawl. If he didn’t get out now, he never would, and he was losing too much blood to withstand another fight.
His mum might not have allowed him into the corridors, but she had drawn him a map and forced him to memorize the locations to go to, should he ever have a need to leave swiftly.
He took off running to the left, only to crash to his knees when his right leg crumpled beneath him.
Mason looked down to find his black dress pants drenched in blood.
Panic thrummed through him, beating like a chaotic drum.
He took a steadying breath and braced his hand on the wall before hauling himself to his feet, fighting through the agony and his rapidly weakening muscles.
His fingers, covered in blood, fumbled to unbuckle his belt as he considered his location and where to go.
The nearest place was a room just to the right.
Thomas would look there first, but if Mason could get inside before another attack, he might be able to slip into the secret tunnel.
He lurched awkwardly forward as he glanced behind him, every millisecond counting. Thomas called for him again, his voice louder as it drew nearer. Mason quickly slipped into the room and hurriedly tightened his belt around his upper thigh above the wound to stem the flow of blood.
Adrenaline kept him going as he hastily scanned the space for the brick.
There was no time to make a mistake. If Thomas found him now, he was dead.
Sweat trickled down Mason’s brow as he hobbled to the left and reached across the copier.
Just before he laid his hand on the brick, he paused.
He didn’t want to leave a trail of evidence behind him.
Mason gritted his teeth against the pain and leaned over farther to press his elbow against the brick instead.
But nothing happened. He sucked in air through clenched teeth, each breath carving its way into his lungs like a blade.
His throat was raw, chest heaving, the rhythm of survival savage and feral.
He shifted over another brick and pressed his elbow into it.
A soft click filled the room, barely audible, before a portion of the back wall shifted.
Stone scraped against stone in a slow, gritty grind, the sound muffled by age and dust. The bricks moved, exhaling to reveal a narrow gap and the cold breath of darkness beyond.
He wasted no time moving to it. Once inside, the door closed behind him.
Mason drew out his mobile and turned on the light to illuminate his way.
There were numerous turn-offs, but there was only one he needed.