26. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Alina
The mansion was too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet—the wrong kind. The kind that made the hair on the back of Alina’s neck stand up as if trying to warn her. She stood in the hallway, arms crossed, staring at nothing and everything at once.
Something’s off, her brain whispered.
Dante, her heart replied.
“No,” she whispered aloud. “He’s fine. He’s with a small army of murder-professionals.”
And you’re alone in a giant house with a target on your back.
“Okay, rude.”
She started pacing. The guards stationed near the staircase kept glancing toward the windows, not casually, but sharply—as if they were waiting for something. Or someone.
Alina slowed her steps. “Hey,” she said to the nearest guard. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said too quickly.
Her eyes narrowed. “That was the fastest lie I’ve ever heard.”
He didn’t respond. She walked away, muttering, “Great. Love that for me.”
She stalked the silent halls, seeking any distraction.
In the library, the books seemed to hold their breath.
In the kitchen, the gleaming steel surfaces felt morgue-cold.
She stood before the indoor waterfall, but its steady cascade offered no answers, only the sound of time running out.
The feeling wasn’t following her; it was in the house, a cold pressure building at the base of her spine.
Something is wrong.
Dante felt it too.
She froze. That was the truth, wasn’t it? He’d left the mission early. He’d rushed the planning. He’d been distracted. He’d felt her.
She pressed a hand to her chest. “Stop. Stop thinking like that.”
He’s still there.
“No, he’s not.”
He is.
She groaned. “I hate this.”
She stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the valley. The wind was cold, sharp enough to sting her cheeks. The sky was too still, the trees too quiet, the air too heavy. She gripped the railing.
“Okay,” she whispered. “If this were a horror movie, this is where the audience would yell at me to go back inside.”
You should listen to them.
She turned to go back in—and stopped.
A shadow moved near the tree line. Not a deer. Not a branch. Not her imagination. A person.
Her breath caught. She stepped backward into the room, heart pounding. “Okay. Nope. Absolutely not. We are not doing this.”
She shut the balcony doors and locked them. Then she locked them again. She hurried down the hall toward the main staircase.
“Hey!” She called to the guards. “There’s someone outside.”
Both guards snapped to attention.
“Where?” one asked.
“Tree line,” she said. “Tall. Moving fast. Not friendly.”
The guards exchanged a look. A bad one. A we’ve-been-expecting-this look.
Alina’s stomach dropped. “What was that?”
“Ma’am, please return to your room,” the guard said.
“No,” she snapped. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“We have it under control.”
“That’s not an answer.”
The guard hesitated. “We’ve had… movement on the perimeter.”
“Movement?” she repeated. “Like squirrels? Or like Vescari?”
Silence.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Oh my god. It’s the Vescari.”
“Ma’am—”
“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me! Tell me!”
The guard exhaled. “We don’t know yet. But we’re on alert.”
Alina’s pulse roared in her ears. It clicked into place with sickening clarity. Dante had known. That was why he’d rushed the mission, why he’d been distracted. “He’s coming back,” she whispered, the realization hitting her like a physical blow.
The guard frowned. “Ma’am?”
“He’s coming back for me,” she said, her voice ringing with absolute certainty. “He knows.”
She ran back to her room, slamming the door. She pressed her back against it, breathing hard.
You’re not safe.
He’s not here.
She slid down to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. “Okay. Think,” she whispered, her own voice grounding her.
Panic was a luxury, and waiting to be rescued was a death sentence.
She pushed herself up, her movements sharp and deliberate.
Survival was a series of choices, and she was already making the first one.
She grabbed her phone and typed one word to Dante: Something’s wrong.
She hit send.
The word Delivered appeared beneath her message, stark and meaningless. Seconds stretched into an eternity, the screen staying blank. A knot of ice formed in her gut.
“Dante… please hurry.”