The footage freezes on her face, then all the screens go black and the dim light overhead flutters to life again.
It’s time to get the hell out of here.
I shove away from the desk and fling the door open. The hallway is empty, and I step out, heading for the stairs, every sound magnified, the squeak of my shoes, the tick of the overhead lights.
One of those lights clicks off.
I freeze. The air behind me feels colder.
Another light dies.
Then another.
The shadows seem to stretch forward, reaching for me. I quicken my pace.
Mish looks up at me. Her ears twitch, and she takes off at a sprint.
That’s the only sign I need.
I run.
The darkness chases, swallowing the corridor in wide black gulps. It’s too smooth to be an electrical glitch. My pulse surges into my throat. Mish is a faint beacon ahead of me, her small glowing form bobbing through the black.
I don’t stop, not when the hallway narrows; not when my foot catches on uneven tile; not even when I dive through the broken window and feel a jagged shard slice my arm open.
I hit the ground running, lungs burning, vision tunneling. The elevator doors yawn open in time, and I throw myselfinside. They slide shut with a metallic whisper, locking out the dark.
For now.
I jab the button and collapse to the floor, chest heaving.
Mish pads over, her cool touch nudges my side, tongue lolling. Then she’s gone.
I stare at the empty space she left as my pulse returns to normal.
What the hell was that? More games from Damien? Malachi said they killed him for betraying the Syndicate, for playing both sides. But after what I saw—after what Irina said—I’m not sure that’s true. Maybe she had him killed herself. Maybe she’s been pulling strings the entire time.
This is bigger, more corrupt. And Irina… Fuck, she had us all fooled.
And the way she talked about Malachi, about molding him, makes my skin crawl.
The elevator dings. Doors open onto the training level. I push to my feet, wipe my palms on my pants, and step out.
I need to find Malachi. Now.
“What’s going on?”I call out, the room going still as I push through the door.
The training center smells faintly of sweat and metal, but everyone’s clustered in the far corner near the bleacher-style seats. My gaze sweeps over them, assessing quickly. Aurora. Bash. Malachi. Cade. Dante. Alex. Nasha. And me.
Eight people. Not bad for a team. Big enough to hit hard, small enough to vanish when we need to.
“Alex, here, was putting us all through the ringer,” Aurora says, her grin widening as she drapes an arm over my shouldersand steers me toward the group. Her breath brushes my ear. “You okay? I’d say you look like you’ve seen a ghost, but we both know you’re used to that by now.”
I manage a faint smile. “Hilarious.”
“What Aurora means,” Malachi cuts in, “is that to make sure we can all trust one another, I had Alex use his gift to ask everyone a few questions.”
“Right.” My eyes lock on his. “Can I talk to you? Alone.”
