Chapter 11
Another growl burst out of him, but I didn’t dare turn around.
I plunged through the doorway into liquid darkness, expecting a door, a room, to have to bar myself in and buy seconds before my imminent demise.
Instead, I stepped onto the landing of a staircase.
It coiled down into pure shadow.
Except it traveled down.
My heart swooped. I didn’t hesitate, bolting down the steps.
The shadows swirled around me, like living entities.
The sound multiplied as I flew as fast as possible, the winding staircase turning in dizzying circles as if I descended a private tower.
I couldn’t stop, though. Not now. Cillian’s growl sounded from above, echoing all the way here, and loud stomping gave a warning signal of his descent.
If he caught up to me, I was dead.
I’d been intruding in the one area I’d been told to avoid. It was dangerous, yet I’d done it anyway.
My heart lodged in my throat as I flew down the unending staircase, sweat bursting out on my temple.
My breaths sawed out of me, and my legs burned, but I moved on borrowed energy.
Once the adrenaline died, I’d falter, but until then, I raced down the staircase at faster speeds than I believed possible.
The clatter sent reverberations up my shins, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
How many floors did this descend? His casino was twenty floors up, the upper tiers all part of his expansive castle. I couldn’t manage twenty flights of steps. He’d catch up to me well before then.
I reached out for the wall and ran my fingertips along it, as if it might hold some secrets I could miss—if a doorframe, an emergency exit, cropped into view, I didn’t want to pass by it.
Not with the rapid way I raced down the steps.
My feet ached from the pounding pressure, my chest burning from the heaving breaths that escaped me with every passing second, every step onward.
But I couldn’t stop now.
Not if I wanted to live.
While he was clearly intimidating, clearly dangerous, I’d somehow along the way begun to view Cillian differently—maybe the conversations, working alongside him day by day.
Another roar resounded throughout the stairwell, booming loud enough to make the stone walls tremble. Any illusions of safety were dispelled.
As I wound around the stairwell again, a landing came into sight, even though the stairs continued down past it. If I remained on the steps, I’d lose steam far before he did, but this way, maybe I could find a place to hide.
I skidded to a halt, slamming into the wall as I tumbled forward to the door. I fumbled with the knob, my palms slick, but it didn’t turn. Those booming footsteps grew louder and louder. I tugged on the handle again, and this time it opened.
Yes!
I burst through, and the brightness of the light made me blink.
Patterned, rich red carpet. The clink of machines.
Casino. I was on one of the casino floors.
Fuck, I needed to hide. Any second, not only would Cillian be after me, but he could easily sic his security on me. I’d be crushed by them in a hot second.
My vision adjusted enough to note the balcony to my right, and to my left, farther down, the glare of a light and the sheen of the golden doors of an elevator.
My legs moved unbidden.
Gasps sounded around me as I rushed toward the elevators at top speed.
The people blurred as I passed, since I was running too fast to absorb details.
Guaranteed, at any moment I’d be garnering attention from security, but whether I evaded them depended on how quickly I could get inside the elevator.
Once there, I wasn’t sure where I’d go, but my window of escape narrowed before my eyes.
I skidded to a halt right in front of the elevator doors and slapped the button.
Shouts, chatter, and the clink, clink, clink of slot machines echoed behind me, but I didn’t dare turn around.
Once I saw my odds, I’d freeze. My forehead dripped sweat, my throat bone-dry, and my shoulders heaved.
My whole body begged me to keep running, to surge forward, but I waited for the elevator.
I’d fucked up. I’d fucked up so badly.
But all I could do now was run.
Those metal doors opened up, and I dove inside.
A few people were already in there, one guy exiting, but I smashed the “close door” button as fast as possible, then the ground-floor one.
I pressed myself against the wall, casting a quick glance at the other people in the elevator—two women about my age wearing sparkly sheath dresses and an older guy in a suit, who all stared at me.
I returned my gaze to what floor we were on—the seventh.
Maybe ground floor wasn’t the place to exit. Cillian might be expecting that. Especially if he had alerted the guards.
The second floor had exits out to the street.
I chewed on my lower lip, hard enough that I tasted copper.
Sweat was pasted on my forehead, my arms, everywhere, and the stares of the other people in the elevator bored into me, but if this was the worst they’d seen in this stretch of Peregrine City, they clearly hadn’t been around here long enough.
My breathing hadn’t evened, still shaky as the elevator dropped floor after floor.
It stopped on the fourth floor, and I sucked in a breath. Fuck it.
When the doors started to creak open, I pressed “door close” and jammed the second-floor button this time.
If security awaited me on the other side, I couldn’t risk letting them in.
No one in the elevator argued my decision, but they glued themselves to the other side, watching me with wide eyes. Right, away from the maniac.
Third floor. Ding.
Second floor.
It was go time.
The elevator doors slid open, and I slipped out and swept to the side of the main atrium as fast as possible.
I didn’t want to break into a run on this floor, didn’t want to attract any attention.
On the far side of the room here, security moved in a sweep across the floor.
They were thorough and quick-footed. I needed to escape, and fast.
To my right lay a corridor that ran adjacent to the main floor in the center. I needed to find a side exit. They’d be expecting me to head to the front of the casino.
I darted down the corridor, walking at a quick clip but not quick enough to draw immediate attention. Granted, with my wild hair, heaving shoulders, and the sweat pasted across my skin, I was a neon-red warning sign.
The security guards would spot me in seconds.
People strolled by at a leisurely pace, couples and groups of friends murmuring to each other as they enjoyed their time at the Spires.
I glanced behind me. No security in sight.
Yet. My calves squeezed tight, begging me to bolt.
My heart hammered so hard I could hear it in my ears, the sound deafening. God, I was so close.
So close to leaving the Spires.
The corridor opened to the left, and I made the turn. A few yards away lay a glass door. My pulse pounded. Could that be an exit? A way out of here?
A shout sounded from the hallway I’d traversed, and my blood turned to ice.
Someone must’ve spotted me.
I tossed away any attempts at blending in and bolted for the door. The second I neared, I skidded to a halt, slamming into the cool glass. Beyond the door lay a busy street—lay my freedom. Thump, thump, thump. My heart threatened to burst out of my chest.
I glanced back. Security hadn’t emerged yet, but those pounding footsteps grew louder, mingling with my heartbeat.
I yanked the door open and vaulted outside.
The sunlight slammed into me at once, and I squinted.
The Spires often distorted my sense of day and night, being trapped inside, and the upstairs featured so much shadow and darkness it was easy to drown in it.
Yet out here, Casino Alley was as loud and vibrant as ever, without the allure the night delivered.
Shit, I needed to move.
The exit dumped me out into a stairwell that led to an alley, major streets filled with bustling cars on either side.
I clattered down the steps, but when I reached the bottom, paralysis struck again.
Which way did I go? I should’ve spent more time studying the layout outside the Spires and the area beyond.
My calves spasmed. I pivoted to the right, hoping the direction would lead me to the light rail—how I’d first arrived weeks ago.
My footsteps echoed, and shade obscured me slightly, though it wouldn’t hide me from anyone peering through the windows lining the place.
My heart slammed so hard I was shocked it didn’t just pop out of my chest. I jogged forward, my shins aching.
When I reached the traffic, I’d try to cross the street, create some barrier between me and the Spires.
The shadow of the building was immense, and a shudder rushed through me, as though no matter how far I ran, I’d never escape.
I gasped in a breath as I neared the edge of the alley.
So close.
A group of men stepped into view, blocking my way.
I skidded to a halt. They were dressed in different suits—not the standard security black.
“Well, well,” the guy in the middle stated, crossing his arms. He was taller, with broad shoulders, a steep brow, and a square jaw.
He had a thick beard and sour scowl that fit the rest of his cruel features.
The sight of him jogged my memory, but I couldn’t quite place from where. “Who’s the lost lamb?”
“Ashmore’s new personal assistant.” The slender guy to the right of him looked familiar too—from one of the meetings, even though his name evaded me.
“He’s taken on personal help again?” The man in the middle grinned, an ugly, vicious thing.
His eyes held a malevolent darkness. While Cillian could be terrifying, it was in more of a force-of-nature sort of way, a wildness to him that couldn’t be replicated.
Yet the look in this man’s eyes held a premeditated and visceral cruelty that shook me to my core.
“If you’ve escaped your master, I can introduce you to a new one. ”
No, no, no.
I whipped around and surged forward.
A hand clamped down around my wrist.
Another guy rushed around to step in front of me—bulky, broad, and blocking my exit. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Make sure not to damage my new goods,” the bearded guy proclaimed. “That’s my job.”
Ice shot through my veins.
No. No. No.
I had to get free. Except I was surrounded.
If I didn’t escape here, I was in for a worse fate than being imprisoned in a tower.
The bearded man grabbed me by the shoulder, his fingers curling in like hooks. There were five of them, and two snagged onto me with rough grips, the others obstructing any clear path to freedom. The stench of their body odor and oppressive cologne surrounded me. My heart lodged in my throat.
I had to leave.
Had to break free.
“Quick, let’s get out of here,” the bearded man ordered. “Before we’re spotted.”
My whole body locked up, and even my breath remained stuck. Yet the moment they pushed me forward, it was like they hit a button. I thrashed in their grip, letting out a holler that echoed through the alley.
“Shut up.” The guy to my right smacked me in the face, the sting barely registering in the face of sheer panic.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I thrashed again, trying to kick out at the nearest shin.
They started to drag me forward, toward the edge of the alley. If they got me into a vehicle, my chances diminished drastically. Who’d be searching for me anyway? Dread coiled through me, even as I lashed out and struggled every inch of the way.
No one would find me.
No one would come looking when I vanished.
I tried to shout again, and one of the assholes smacked me in the side of the face—hard. It stung. My cheek throbbed. Their rough grips formed steel bands around me, and the more I resisted, the tighter they held on.
Fuck.
Then a roar sounded through the alley, with enough power to deafen.