Page 5 of The Shadow Sanctum

Sawyer blinks at me. “Are you going to—” His eyes bulge as he catches something over my shoulder. “Jesus Christ.”

He stumbles backward into the wall, nearly falling when his ankle seems to give out.

A cold, metallic taste enters my mouth, like biting down on tinfoil, sharp and nauseating. I expect Father to be looming as I whip around.

But it’s only the initiate.

My chest loosens on a sigh I’m quick to correct with the squaring of my shoulders. I cup my hands in front of me.

“Am I interrupting?” Mr. Sanchez asks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I shake my head. “Ignore Mr. Hansley. He’s a bit skittish.” Taking a step to the side, I reveal Sawyer and sweep a hand toward our guest. “Sawyer, this is Mr. Sanchez. He’s a new initiate. I was just showing him his room when you…”

I frown at Sawyer’s posture. Tense. Defensive. His knees slightly bent, fingers half curled into fists. He looks like he’s about to fend off an attack. As if I would ever let someone so insignificant hurt him.

“Pleasure.” Mr. Sanchez nods before addressing me. “I was wondering where the bathroom was.”

I point through the wall. “Down the hall. Second door on the left.”

He gives me a polite smile—the charming are always the vilest, aren’t they? —before retreating like he’s going to leave us. He stops himself, snaps his finger, and looks at Sawyer. “I’m sorry, do I know you? You look incredibly familiar.”

Sawyer’s mouth fumbles on words that don’t quite form. Quite a sight for such a composed liar.

What a day this has been for him.

“Oh.” Mr. Sanchez snaps his fingers again as he looks up at the ceiling. He jabs his index finger in Sawyer’s direction. “I know what it is. I saw you on the news. They busted you for having a trafficking ring. Is that right?”

Sawyer shrugs, but he must be offended. I’ve never seen him brush off that particular accusation.

Mr. Sanchez smiles like he’s somehow satisfied instead of disgusted like a decent human being would be.

“So are you the supplier here?” He flicks his finger between Sawyer and me while I fantasize about cutting it off.

“No,” Sawyer’s finally quick to say.

“What is it you believe Mr. Hansley is supplying?” I ask Mr. Sanchez, finally drawing his eyes to me. He doesn’t answer.

Coward.

“I think you may have misunderstood the Sanctum’s values.” My hands clasp at my waist, thumbs tapping at a pace just shy of furious. “I’m aware of Mr. Hansley’s past, but that isn’t the type of thing we condone here.”

His smile falls. Something dangerous flicks in his eyes, the tell-tale rage of a man unaccustomed to being challenged.

Ha.

“Is that right?” His jaw barely moves as he speaks. I don’t know how he manages to make his voice so buttery.

As my mouth opens, Sawyer pushes past me. His body blocks Mr. Sanchez’s while he extends his hand toward the hall. “Right so, like Luna was saying, bathroom is the second door on the left. Do you want me to show you?”

Despite Sawyer crowding him, Mr. Sanchez doesn’t budge. I don’t see what happens, but I feel tension wind tight in the room.

“Nope,” Mr. Sanchez says at last. “I think I can find it on my own. But thanks, Mr. Hansley.”

As soon as he’s gone, Sawyer shuts the door. The click of the lock draws my eyes to the knob. I haven’t had a need for that lock in four years.

“What’s wrong?”

Sawyer shoves a hand through damp, shaggy hair. His feet shift as if he’s about to pace, but he seems to think better of it.