Page 51

But not small enough.

One of the advisors stops speaking.

The air shifts.

Footsteps turn. Head tilts.

"Did you hear that?"

Panic floods my body.

A chair scrapes. Fabric rustles. Someone begins moving toward the tapestry.

They are coming.

I have to move.

Now.

I slip away.

One step. Two.

A breath held so tightly my lungs ache.

The guards are still waiting at the entrance. They will see me if I move too quickly.

They will see me if I hesitate.

So I walk.

Not too fast. Not too slow.

As if I belong here.

As if I am not unraveling from the inside.

The advisors are still speaking, their voices drifting as I weave through the towering shelves, each step carrying me closer to the exit.

I do not listen to the rest.

I cannot.

The words have already settled like poison in my gut.

The Destroyer.

The sirens should have been wiped out.

A woman whose voice will unravel men.

I reach the doors.

The guards glance at me but say nothing as they pull them open, revealing the darkened corridors beyond.

I step through.

I keep walking.